


The Art of Broken Pieces

by sakurazawa, Sathya



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi, Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi (2017), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, The Last Jedi
Genre: Ben Solo is a porg-tosser, Ben and Rey Force visiting fun times, F/M, Fake!Married, Force Ghosts, Grease Jawa, Hunting the first order, Masquerade, Porg Lord Solo, Post-Canon, Post-Series, Slow Burn, Tbh a lot of plot for a romance fic, after episode 9, also a lot of porgs, ben solo redemption, like a lot of plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-02-16 19:02:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 63
Words: 163,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13060209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakurazawa/pseuds/sakurazawa, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sathya/pseuds/Sathya
Summary: (Spoilers for THE LAST JEDI)Rey knew Ben Solo needed her. He’d never fully succeeded in killing his past, and those cornerstones of his life dragged behind him, a weight he refused to process, to grieve, and to forgive.That was what he needed her for. Not to stay his hand, or protect people from his destructive form of help, but when the goodness in him cracked open the seal, and his past came flooding in, threatening to drown him.Until then, all she could do was stay beside him, which was shaping up to be more difficult than anything she’d ever done. But at least it was action. And if there was one thing she trusted Ben Solo to do well, it was hunt the enemy.





	1. One Porg

Ben whirled, lightsaber crackling in his hands, and faced the last standing soldier of the fallen First Order. The Force sang in his blood, dark power that roared in a torrent through his mind. It surrounded him, called to him, made him feel alive and invincible. 

He laughed at the visible fear behind the other man's eyes, even as the soldier lifted his weapon and charged. That fear was a beautiful thing, raw and wild and proof of Ben's power. It was too easy. He stepped aside like a dancer and the man’s armor and body made a simple, futile resistance against the blade which cauterized even as it killed.

The air filled with the scent of burning flesh. No one ever mentioned the smell in their epic tales of lightsaber battles, as though it were too graphic to support the romantic idea of righteous Jedi. But it was part of the battle that Ben breathed in, along with the hiss of blood that seared away along the edges of the wound.

The song of the Force was deafening now. His body hummed with it, with the power of the universe at his fingertips just waiting to be released. He could feel the villagers, bright points of light in his senses, the fear and determination sparking off them as they closed around him.

They should be thanking him for saving their tiny lives from the First Order holdouts who had been hiding here, but no, the spreading lies of the new government had raised in them some self-righteous fervor to 'do good', to throw themselves away for the sake of the universe. It was propaganda; it was shit.  

The citizens crawled like ants from the doors of their homes, from their rooftops, from the mouths of narrow streets, faces filled with the determination of those who refused to see how irrelevant they were. Their numbers meant nothing to him. The darkness that crackled through him hungered for their destruction.  

A group of them charged from the side alley. He threw out a hand, sweeping them back, both hearing and feeling the snap of bone as several of them struck a wall. Life still flickered in them and the roaring tide in him called for their death. This was power, his power, and they should fear him like all the others!

A face flickered into his mind, through the fury and the pain that he ignored. Weathered, lined, grey streaking her hair and sadness and loss haunting her eyes. Even in death she watched him, hoping for something he was incapable of.

With a rough cry he stumbled back, fist closing as he struggled to reign in the power that fought to break free. Holding back the oncoming attackers with a wall of Force, he closed his eyes and fought to find the center that Luke had once forced him to practice.

He had made promises, to himself, to the dead... promises that were so hard to keep.  _Why bother?_  The power in him whispered, frustrated.  _What is the point? You were meant to rule the galaxy... They’re nothing...._

Searing pain ripped through his side, a blaster shot that had gotten through while he was distracted, tearing through jacket and skin and dropping him to one knee as he cried out in pain and anger. The calm that he had been struggling to find shredded away and raw fury burned in its place. He should not have come to this! He was their better, should have been their ruler, not hunted for the good of their arrogant leaders! He could see it in his mind as though it were happening, the fires of ruin as he burned their miserable city to the ground and spilled their blood out on the colorless earth.

His center was gone, and in its place a tide of darkness and anger driven by pain crashed over him. A small and desperate fear screamed in the back of his mind where he could always feel Rey's silent connection, held closed stubbornly. Perhaps it was enough to have tried? The Force rose in him and he pulled himself to his feet, feeling the crowd draw back even as they steeled themselves to come at him again.

This was his chance to burn it all down, and he hungered for it. 

Breaking down of the wall between them wasn’t even a choice. The part of him that struggled to find calm, to keep his promises, screamed out for her in desperation. She was all that was left between the dark fury and what remained of his soul.  _Stop me! Help me..._

 All that he was and all that he struggled not to be flooded between them as he reached out in panic to the only anchor he had left.

***

Rey didn’t have a head for politics. In the first few months after the fall of the First Order, that had been easier to disguise. It had all been damage control and reassuring the terrified doubters that it was really over. She’d welcomed refugees whose planets were no longer habitable after First Order outposts gouged their dying mark into crust and core. She’d gone on missions down to the unstable worlds, used the Force to locate and rescue survivors. She’d helped tally the resistance losses, thanked their holographic images around that massive funeral pyre, though she hadn’t known more than a handful. She’d supported Poe, who’d known them all.

They’d stayed so long in front of General Organa’s hologram that the pyre had burned to ashes. Then they’d walked wordlessly back to the base and climbed into bed, needing the contact of life and the safe arms of a friend. She’d been clumsy. He hadn’t. And though it wasn’t love, it was something anchoring in the turmoil.

But soon the steady flow of missions tapered, and the need for heroes gave way to the need for politicians. However much the memory of General Organa’s liquid brown eyes haunted her, Rey was not a politician. Oddly enough, it turned out Finn was. And so was Poe, after a fashion. They were both learning, and much faster than Rey, who didn’t like problems that couldn’t be solved by anything but arguments.

So while her two best friends developed policies and battled credit bureaus for reconstruction aid, Rey wandered.

At least, her mind wandered, which was why she was still standing at the holoscreen beside Poe, arguing with a glittery-eyed Hapan creditor, when the blast of Force-energy knocked her back several feet.

No, not several feet. It knocked her across the galaxy. She saw through his eyes. He crouched in a dusty square, between buildings made of smoke-streaked fiber-crete, watching half the blaster fire hang shivering in the air. The other half zipped and burned smoldering holes in the buildings.

But she could see him. Ben crouched there, as if he were in the Alliance base, radiating pain and fury. The desperate thread of control inside him slowly twisting apart.

 _Stop me_! She could feel his pain, see the eyes of his mother, heavy with expectation. Expectation he felt unequal to. Failure burned in him, beneath the black anger that raged inside him, seducing him away from grief with the deep sweetness of violence. The first sip of firewine to an addict, fighting for recovery.

She dropped to her knees beside him, ignoring the distant warble of voices from the Alliance base, and threaded her fingers into sweat-drenched curls, dragging his forehead to hers. His skin burned.

“Ben,” she whispered. “You have to fight this. You can.” He could. She’d watched him do it, more than once. He’d faltered for guidance, struggled to interpret his destiny, but at the final hour, he’d chosen good. Too late, for most. But Rey wasn’t most. “Ben,” she said, and shook him until he looked at her. His eyes, so like his mother’s, were also haunted. But it was a more raw, serrated kind of pain. “Fight it. Think—you can walk away. You’re strong enough to walk away. I’ll help you.”

The world was frozen in a moment, a moment that was extended around them as the angry mob hung in place with open mouths and weapons raised in defiance. The pain, both emotional and physical clouded his mind like a fog that made it impossible to see the way out.

"What if I'm not as strong as you think I am." he managed, words broken as he closed his eyes and focused on her skin against his own. Her scent mingled with the smell of blood and ashes in his mind, incongruous and alien. "I don't think that I can do this..."

It was too easy to follow the well-traveled path of self-defense. In a bitter corner of his soul, he knew he wouldn't even regret their lives. They would mean nothing more to him than the failure to keep his promise. A regretful weakness, but their humanity was irrelevant. Ben reached into Rey's mind, trying to see them as she did, borrowing her eyes to justify a new course of action. 

He took a deep and shaking breath, fighting again to find his center, fragile though it may be. He locked his mind there, filling it with her presence and with every memory he had of her. Rey angry and screaming, smiling and reaching out, disappointed, turning away... The brush of her hand against his. He wound the memories into a shield around his mind and released his grip on the force, letting it all fall away. 

The world rushed back, screams of rage and hate battering him as they descended, and he let his lightsaber fall from deadened fingers. He pushed her from him roughly before they reached him, wanting to protect her as best he could. He threw her from his mind and slammed the connection closed as hands and fists reached for him, tearing at him. 

_Thank you…_

Rey was thrown backwards, the storm of Ben’s thoughts sucking from her like the sudden vacuum of space. Disoriented, she swung her arm and fought to process the return of the present, of the lights and shadows and sounds of this room in the Alliance. She processed Poe’s voice, his hands on her arms holding her steady.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he said, as a jarring slam of mental doors shuddered in her brain like a headache. “What’s going on, Ace? What happened?” He was motioning to one of the others to take over his conversation with the confused Hapan creditor. “Rey? Breathe.”

She was trying. The disorienting pain made it hard.

Poe corralled her backwards, blocking her from the concerned curiosity of the other Alliance officials. His hands found her face, warm and bracing, much in the same way she’d just held Ben.

“Hey,” he said. “Hey, you’re good. You’re good, okay? We’ve got you.” She forced her eyes open, forced them to look up at Poe’s, and let him become the center of everything. Her senses receded through the universe like an outgoing tide, shrinking back to the size of the room, and all it’s confused, buzzing inhabitants. Then her senses shrank to Poe. She felt his concern, and under that, his genuine affection and trust for her. And at the core of him, the solid surety of who he was and what he fought for, his unshakable strength.

The buzzing confusion eased slowly, and she forced her muscles to relax, her breathing and pulse to return to normal. Near-black eyes. Warm hands. Real. She was here. Poe was real. Not Ben. Not the madness of the place he’d been.

She relaxed, slumping back against the wall as Poe’s hands dropped to her arms again, rubbing the prickling skin. “You okay?”

She nodded, though she could feel her brows still drawn. “Fine.”

“Want to tell me what the hell that was?”

She swallowed, wondering if he’d even accept a “no” after the way she’d reacted. “I know what’s happening on the outer rim,” she said. “I know who’s taking out the remnants of the First Order.”

Poe’s mouth opened, but before he let himself say anything, he glanced back at the others. “Okay.” He scooped her around the shoulders and pulled her in a quick stride through the busy room, and into a tight, empty side-passage. She sensed his lingering worry for her, as well as the hunch prickling under his skin. They drew to a halt and moved to face each other.

“Tell me it’s anyone but him,” he said.

Rey pressed her lips and met Poe’s eyes. She shook her head. “He’s hunting the remains of the First Order.”

Poe closed his eyes, and she had a fleeting image of his torture at Kylo Ren’s hands, the violation of his mind. A violation she knew, but had been able to defend against, unlike Poe. But when the Alliance’s new leader opened his eyes, there was no hint of vulnerability in them. Only frustration, and annoyance, and the glints of anger, lighting them up like the glow of stirred coals.

They’d had their own scouts out for months, searching the outer rim planets for whispers of First Order holdouts. But someone was always ahead of them, and they put together the clues too late, only after someone had swept in and destroyed the remnants. Poe had been obsessed with catching whoever it was, both so they could learn the trick of finding the First Order and so they could control the toll all those messy disasters had on the population.

“Kylo Ren is our vigilante,” Poe said. It wasn’t even a question.

“No,” Rey said. “Ben Solo is.”


	2. 10 Porgs

Finn had wanted to come with her. Chewbacca had refused. Poe had given her a look of resignation that said he wasn’t even going to bother making an order she’d just break. So, in the end, Rey went after Ben Solo alone.

Alone, except for the colony of porgs nested in the smuggling compartments, which she’d sensed only after several parsecs in hyperspace. She was glad for their company. The life support system in the Falcon had been updated a dozen times but ships this small rarely combatted the cold of space very well. There weren’t enough interior rooms that didn’t border the hull. So each night she piled into the bunk nearest the cockpit, and the porgs piled in with her taking up the rest of the triple bunk, which must have once been modified for a couple’s use.

Han and Leia. They must have spent so much of their married life on this ship. A double-wide bunk had been welded in place.

It felt strange to lie in this bed, where Ben’s parents had once slept. She found herself wondering where he’d slept. In the second tiny room, on one of the bunks above Chewie’s? Or maybe in the single bunk in the lounge. He was so private, she had to think he’d have wanted to be alone...but maybe he hadn’t always been that way.

What had he been like as a child?

She banished those thoughts, but they returned every time she stretched out for a sleep cycle, confronted with the ship that seemed to have been steeped in Solo and Skywalker memories.

At last, after what would have been several Jakku weeks, the proximity alert blared.

She’d reached the outer rim, and the planet that had hailed the Alliance with their triumphant capture. She entered atmosphere unchallenged, hailed their frequency, and met the scrappy town’s de facto leader with a grim nod.

On the Alliance base, she’d felt that Ben-shaped presence like a tiny pinprick, piercing the fabric of the universe somewhere in the back of her mind. Now she felt him stronger, a dark well of gravity ringed in poisoned spikes, drawing her in.

“Take me to him.”

He had expected them to kill him, perhaps he had hoped they would. But instead he had grown accustomed to the pain and the darkness they kept him in. Doubtless they had contacted the new government, a public and shaming execution would no doubt be more satisfying to the downtrodden of the universe than a silent death on a no name planet.

At every step it would have been easy to break free of them, to give up and rain down destruction that would make them tremble and regret his humiliation, but he locked himself away in the shield that Rey had given him and held onto it with both hands even as cracks spiderwebbed across its fragile surface. It was the best he could do... It was all he could do. Had he let go for even a moment--when they beat him, when they manacled him--he knew he would have torn them apart and he would have been unable to stop.

Their hate and anger beat at him, justified and white hot even when they left him alone in the darkness of his cell. This was his punishment, his judgment. He wanted to rebel against it but in the darkness the faces that haunted him also condemned him and justified their actions. Faces he had tried so hard to ignore turned on him in his restless dreams, accusing him. 

When his captors came near enough he taunted them, threatened them, pushing at their triggers in an almost desperate attempt to force them the rest of the way. There was only one person left in the universe to fail, and Ben found he didn't want her to see whatever public display was the obvious last step in this ridiculous experiment of his. He should have known better than to think it could have gone any other way.

He heard them coming, footfalls on the stone steps of this hovel they considered a prison. He heard them, but his focus was on the presence he had felt coming closer each moment of the last day. She was bright, a reminder he both needed and did not want. He would not meet her again on his knees.  Gathering his pride and fighting the pain that seemed to have found home in every part of his body, he forced himself to stand and face the door, chin lifted with the pride they could not take away from him. He had more power than they could imagine, he had almost ruled a galaxy.

The light beyond the door made him blink rapidly, vision blurring as he focused on her. The rest of them were irrelevant, rats barely worth notice. He straightened, the unattended blaster wound in his side protesting the movement vehemently. 

“Why are you here?" he asked coldly. It should have been anyone but her sent to fetch him. Anyone but the one remaining weakness he didn't want to allow.

“Leave us,” she said. At the colonist’s hesitation, she glanced back, offering him a reassuring nod. She was Rey of the Resistance. Rey of the Jedi. But she’d once been a scavenger, full of the day to day survival and fruitless-feeling dreams. She’d been as poor as them. And she’d risen to meet the greatness darkness in the galaxy.

A darkness that stood before her now, asking why she’d come.

The colonist left, and Rey turned back to Ben. He felt her conflict—half of her wanted to keep her distance, to stay out of reach of those deadly, manacled hands. She could read his stare. He glared at her like he hated her, like he needed her, and he’d give anything not to. She knew it all.

Rey stepped forward, still resisting the horrible gravity of that deep well of guilt and anger. It seemed incredible to him that she could be so unafraid of it.

“You know why,” was all she said.

“You shouldn't have," he growled, resisting the urge to fall back as she stepped toward him. She was a magnet both pulling him in and pushing him away. He didn't want anything to do with her compulsive need to save him.

"Here to take me back for my oh-so-deserved trial?"  He threw bitterness at her like a weapon, his last line of defense.

“No,” she said, deflecting the bitterness with ease. She knew it, like she knew the bite of a threatened animal. He was scared, and he felt helpless—as if doing the right thing could only mean doom.

He shook off her mind, hating the version of himself she read. Hating that truth.

“I’m here to represent the Alliance, and to keep you from blowing things up. So far, you’ve been the most reliable locator for First Order holdouts. And since I doubt you’ll share how you’re finding them...” She let him extrapolate the rest.

Ben snorted.  "So, you want to use me.  Keep me on your leash while I hunt them down for you. What does your precious resistance think of this?"

He held her gaze, refusing to show the wave of dizziness that swept through him, making his stomach twist.  "Or are you making up your own rules as you go? Careful, they don't take kindly to that."

Of course she had come. She always would. And that was what he hated about her the most, despite the fact that he had practically asked her to do so when he had reached out to her in panic. Hated... and relied on.

She looked up at him, her eyes like a fierce channel straight to her mind. The parts of her that hated him, that blamed him, rebelled inside her—he could feel the sweetness of their dark. They wanted to listen to his venom and give him up to the fate he deserved for murdering his father, and countless others. He’d been the Supreme Leader. Surely he, more than anyone, deserved to be put down.

But there was another part of her, just as strong, that couldn’t forget the eyes of a frightened young man, betrayed by his master and his family. She saw the vulnerability and pain where he’d been torn apart by conflict, and she thought it needed time to scar, and grow tough. He hadn’t had that time yet. But once he had, she believed there was good there, there was strength waiting to reach out and stabilize the galaxy he’d helped to knock spinning.

“You asked for a leash, Ben,” she said. “Would you prefer an execution?”

"Do I really get a say? You'll do what you want, regardless." 

He leaned back against the wall behind him, trying to hide weakness behind an arrogant nonchalance. She knew better, he knew she could feel him just as well, but it was impossible not to try.

Her goodness frustrated him, seemed to hold her back from true greatness. She could be so much more... and yet, he knew that if she were more like him, his need for her would fade. It was that unquenchable spark within her that kept him moving when it would be so easy to implode.

"I'm at your mercy either way, it seems."

She reached out and closed her fingers around his manacles. “Lucky it’s mine,” she said. “And not the Alliance’s.”

She hauled him to the door, refusing to be gentle. He didn’t need that. It would only infuriate him. And the colonists needed to see him dragged away by someone they believed in a little bit more.

The blaster burn in his side went deep, and despite the cauterized flesh, infection battled into the wound. Ben was sweaty with fever. He stank, and it both repulsed and drew her. She wanted to help him, to save him, and he knew it. But there was another reason too.

She’d been relieved to escape the politics. She wasn’t right for that world. Like Ben, she needed a bit of danger. A bit of gray area. She needed to do, not talk.

Back aboard the Falcon she saw him installed in the lounge, his manacles linked to the holo table for whatever good it might do. His response to the ship was visceral, but she dampened their connection forcibly, and reassured Andego’s new leadership that the Alliance would be in contact regarding aid.

She got them into space and set the nav computer to calculating jump coordinates before venturing back into the lounge.

He was there, big and dark and wretched, hunched against the onslaught of twisting emotions. Rey pushed them aside like jungle vines, stepping between the ropes of practiced defense until she stood beside him.

Rey deactivated the manacles and forced herself to stay within reach, to prove to him she wasn’t afraid, or that she trusted him. Both might have been true, or neither. It was all dualities and questions with Ben.

She could bully him into accepting a fever reducer and bacta patches, but it was just as likely he’d seek those things out himself. He’d certainly know where they were kept.

Instead, she just said, “Clean up.”

Memories raked at him with every step he took on the ship, slicing at his defenses and clawing at his mind.  He struck them away one by one as they assaulted him, refusing to become a victim to their advances.  They were from another life, from the past of a dead man and he would not let them matter. To still his mind he wrapped himself in his darker emotions, focusing on his pride and on the sense of self that kept him strong.  He was Kylo Ren.  He was a leader, to be feared and to be respected.  He held to that identity with claws that would not let it go.

When she released him, he was almost surprised by her presence at his side.  He had wound himself up so tightly in his defense that even her usually stilling presence in his mind was held at bay.  Her very existence threatened all that kept his sane.  

Standing slowly, he rubbed at the raw skin of his wrists, barely acknowledging her.  It was like being in a dream and struggling to hold together the pieces of oneself enough to remember that the dream was not reality, no matter how it tried to close around you.  He moved automatically, turning away, finding his way through the achingly familiar corridors of the ship.  Numbly he took himself through the motions, and when he let himself notice the world around him again he was watching the stars, casting himself as far as possible from the ships confines.  

The gunner's seat was small, confined, the vastness of space around him on all sides like a comforting blanket.  The only thing he knew for certain about the clothes he now wore was that they had never belonged to anyone he knew.  Perhaps one of her companions in the rebellion...  slightly too small for him, short at the wrists and ankles, but clean.

He closed his eyes and leaned back into the seat, trying to untangle the chaos of his thoughts. There was no direction to them and no solace to find, so he emptied them, struggling towards that distant center that he was so out of practice in reaching.

He tried to drift, to lose himself, but each time he did so he began to move towards the one magnetic point that tethered him. The connection, the one he wanted to ignore the most. Testing it, he let the faintest tendril feel along its edges, hopefully un-noticed. She was lost in her own thoughts, but through them he saw himself... or versions of himself.

He felt her start, sensing his intrusion, and he quickly dove away and slammed the door closed again.

Rey’s hand froze on the console. She felt the slim curl of presence, stealthing into her senses, so quiet she almost didn’t know he was there. He wasn’t driving in, like he once had, a blade into her mind, ready to carve out what it needed. This was a cautious thread, the barest points of contact. He was reaching for her in the darkness, reassuring himself she was there.

The tendril went still, caught, and snapped away like a bladed whip.

Rey flinched, recoiled from her own desire to follow the thread back along its path to Ben’s wounded mind. She didn’t need to—she knew exactly where he was. The Falcon was full of nooks and hidden spaces, but the dorsal gun turret felt the most removed, and the most serene. It would be good for Ben to get a bit of serenity.

She spent a few hours manually navigating to a more direct hyperspace jump route, then punched the drive. Points of starlight became lines, stretching out into a tapestry of brightness that encased the ship.

Rey unbuckled her crash webbing and stretched. The lounge looked untouched, and when she checked the medical supplies, she found the bin still fully stocked, with Rose’s careful marks down the checklist. She’d been thorough in her help preparing Rey’s journey.

Still, it meant Ben was suffering. There was every likelihood that suffering was the intentional, self-flagellating variety. Which was idiotic. It would only make him surlier.

Rey took a few supplies with her and, steeling herself for the conflict, climbed into the gun turret to find Ben.

What she found was Ben, two porgs, and a billion star-lines, streaking past.

Ben had spent the last few minutes absently force-tossing the fluffy creatures into the windows...  but they just bounced and came back for more. It was quite irritating, but also distracting.

He felt Rey coming up the ladder and sent the next one flying in her direction a bit spitefully. He had managed to force most of the most uncomfortable memories and emotions back into their boxes, and the calm void of space was slowly soothing away the rough edges of his anger.

She sensed the porg in just enough time to catch the screeching thing midair. It stared at her, fluffy, useless wings extended, and gave a tattling sort of chitter-squeak.

“Sorry about him,” she said to it, then floated it gently down to the deck. Eyes narrowed, she climbed he rest of the way up the ladder to the gun turret.

Ben ached in every muscle, and a dark exhaustion battled for control his senses but a stubborn part of him refused to succumb to sleep in this place.  It was inevitable that he would lose that battle eventually, but every moment he held it at bay seemed like some small victory.

He ignored her as best as he could, unwilling to break their tense silence first.

Ben made the gunwell look small. His shoulders and the cloud of dark brown curls darkened Rey’s view of the transparisteel bubble, and his legs were too long for the rotating frame. He’d propped his boots against the window instead, taking up a far larger percentage of the space than Rey ever had.

He was wearing Finn’s old stormtrooper shirt, and a pair of dark brown fatigues that could have belonged to any of the men who’d been aboard in the last year. Nothing quite fit him.

She levered herself up into the bubble behind him, peering out the viewport with the familiar swell of wonder. Space. There was just so much of it, endlessly spiraling out into forever. Her gaze ticked over to Ben, gauging the petulant set of his mouth. She wasn’t sure he could look anything but sulky with those generous lips. They seemed naturally inclined to turn down.

She turned her gaze back to the stars, wondering what Ben saw.

_When was the last time you looked out at the universe without wanting to conquer it?_

"What makes you think I don't?" He replied automatically, not taking his eyes from the bluish haze of hyperspace that surrounded them.

“I don’t know,” she said, not sure why she was so surprised he’d heard her thoughts. She pulled out a bacta patch and picked at the backing. “Possibly because you let yourself be held by a handful of barely-armed villagers. Or maybe that was part of your nefarious plan to take over the universe, one food cellar at a time.”

She made a swift move, dragging up his sleeve and pressing the patch into place. She started on the second patch.

“Where’s the one on your side?”

It was habit, to always answer with the words most likely to drive a wedge deeper between them, even as he both appreciated and resented her intrusion. The burning tiredness behind his eyes was exposing the parts of him he wanted to ignore, the parts of him that longed for companionship and for the pain to end.

It was hard to maintain the prickling aura that held her at bay when he wanted to just close his eyes and feel her arms around him. To let someone else worry about the next step for the space of a few breaths.

She peeled off the backing of a second bacta patch. Ben considered being difficult, pulling away and refusing her assistance, but he was too tired to bother.  Shifting slightly in the small space he pulled up the tight shirt, still not looking at her.  He refused to spar with her on the subject, she had been too close in the moment when he had stopped fighting.  She already had all the answers she needed, and it would be pointless to engage.  

Instead, he glared at the porg sliding stealthily towards them. "How do you stand them?"  He asked.

“I boot them off at every port, but they just keep coming back,” she said, laying her fingers along the inflamed rim of the blaster wound. “I haven’t found all their nests. This is infected.”

Rey was a little surprised he wasn’t fighting her, and a little worried about his state of mind because of it. Ben did not relinquish power or display weakness unless he could use that weakness as a lever to exploit someone else. He’d done it with Han. He’d done it with her, though she was sure he’d been convinced she would join him—support his weakness with her strength. Instead, she’d made that weakness a strength, and used it to save him.

She dug a small bottle from her hip pouch and sprayed the antiseptic on the wound. It wasn’t the gentle kind, but it was quick enough for its work to be visible, foaming out whatever bacteria or toxin had gotten in through the burn. The bacta patch came next.

“Also, they’re warm,” she said. “This ship stays way too cold in space.” She pressed a metal tube to his wrist, and micro needles delivered a fast-acting dose of fever reducer.

There, maybe he’d be less...frustrating when he wasn’t also bordering on delirium.

"So now what?"  He asked through gritted teeth.  "I'm your prisoner?"

Rey glanced up at him, eyebrows tight. “You’d like that too much,” she said, and jammed the medical implements back in her bag. “Gives you too solid a reason to resent me.”

He’d resent her anyway, but without a reason to point to, a place to take root, the resentment couldn’t maintain.

Rey knew Ben Solo needed her. He’d never fully succeeded in killing his past, and those cornerstones of his life dragged behind him, a weight he refused to process, to grieve, and to forgive.

That was what he needed her for. Not to stay his hand, or protect people from his destructive form of help, but for when the goodness in him cracked open the seal, and his past came flooding in, threatening to drown him.

Until then, all she could do was stay beside him, which wasn’t shaping up to be fun for either of them. But at least it was action. And if there was one thing she trusted Ben Solo to do well, it was hunt the enemy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PORGS! Sathya and I have a great love for the porgs. We’re treating them a bit like tribbles, giving us a thread of levity throughout an otherwise vastly angsty story.
> 
> God, I love the porgs. You know what else I love? Ben force-tossing the porgs everywhere in impotent spite. Don’t worry. They’re bouncey.


	3. 31 Porgs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit more of the back-and-forth RP style here. Are the asteriks between POV changes jarring? I wanted to vary it by color instead, but that doesn’t appear to be an option. Let me know in the comments if you’d prefer I leave out the asteriks between POV changes, or if you like them!

They spent a Jakku week in space, drifting between fueling stations where Ben kept scarce and Rey refused gifts and discounts from those who either recognized the Falcon, or who recognized her. For the whole week, she didn’t see him. He slept in the gun turret and must have come down while she was getting rest. She’d wake to food missing, the showers in the head changed to a scalding temperature, and a flurry of resentful porgs pouting up at the turret ladders.

At a rim station called Grafa Tak, she’d stumbled across a clothing vendor. At first she passed it by, barely noticing, and ducked into a parts shop for some replacement copper wiring and a few other repair bits.

She wouldn’t have noticed it at all if she hadn’t stopped for food. After so long eating rehydrated rations, the smell of baking bread had reached out and snared her, drawing her into the shop. She’d sampled cheeses and breads and sweet rolls until she realized the owners knew who she was and would have given her a bit of everything without payment. Grateful, and a little embarrassed by the attention, she’d insisted upon buying two loaves of bread, a wheel of creamy lavender colored cheese, and two rolls stuffed with spices and some unidentifiable chopped fruit.

Weighed down by her purchases, she’d left the bakery just as the Ithorian across the corridor shook out a large, navy shirt. Her mind flashed to the too-small black shirt, and Ben’s bare ankles. He’d need something else to wear. After the neglect of captivity, Ben’s own clothing had been beyond saving. He seemed just vain enough for the lack of properly-fitting clothes to edge close to humiliation. Though, some humility couldn’t hurt...

She’d walked a few feet back toward the docking quay when conscience slowed her feet. Snoke had humiliated Ben. He’d used that sort of grinding-down to exacerbate his apprentice’s angry pride, much the same way Ben’s hammering of his own wound that day in the forest had seemed to incite a pain-induced rage in him.

And he deserved at least something as basic as a good set of fitting clothes. Rey, who’d never owned more than what was on her back at any given time, now had several sets of clothing, most of them chosen by Leia or one of the other women on her staff. Rey had pilfered a few basics from the Resistance bases, but everything she owned was earth-toned and functional.

Except the dress. She had one dress, foisted upon her by Leia for an ambassadorial mission to Bespin. It was made from a thick indigo fabric, and though the collar had been high in the front, it winged up into points at the back of her neck and that opened in a long, revealing slit down to her lower back. The front had long, narrow pleats down the bodice, which fit snugly to her hips and then flared into a glittering skirt studded with crystal shards. She hadn’t recognized herself in the mirror, with the intricate braids Leia had done.

“I always wanted a daughter,” she’d said, putting the last pin in place.

“I always wanted a mother,” Rey had responded, and they’d refused to look at each other for the next few moments, afraid to see the gleam of tears.

Despite general assurances that she didn’t look ridiculous, the dress had made her feel exposed and clumsy. She’d been unnerved when Finn stared and said, “Yeah, good. Fine. You look fine. I mean good.” And when Poe frowned, she felt even more nervous. When he asked Leia, “You sure Calrissian’s going to give her back?” Rey had wanted to call off the whole thing.

She’d secured the funding they’d needed for new fighter ships, but she still didn’t understand why she’d needed a dress to do that. But even Rey had strong preferences for clothing, so it was only fair to put Ben at ease in that small way.

She bought the shirt, which was a deep, twilight navy, and asked the shopkeeper to help her estimate the right size trousers based on height and build.

“He’s...” she searched for an explanation. “Well-fed?”

“Fat?” The Ithorian asked.

“No,” she said. “No, he’s—" A flash of memory; Ben walking toward her, uncovered from the waist up. Muscled, intimidating, and unafraid.

“Fit?” The Ithorian suggested.

That was better than saying out loud that Ben was beautifully muscled. Much better. “Yes,” she said. “He does...physical work.”

She left the shop with two differently sized pairs of trousers and hoped one fit. Part of her wondered if she should have bought undergarments, but she wasn’t sure either of them would survive that indignity.

Back at the hangar, she checked the gauge, paid the port-master for their berth and fuel, and climbed aboard. It took a few hours to decide what to do with the clothing. In the end, she left it folded on the holo board, beside the second wrapped pastry, and assumed her dark ghost of a travel companion would find it.

The long days of silence had given him time to think, time to come to terms with his new situation. Ghosts haunted his every step on the Falcon, memories and faces that threatened to drag him down into long buried regrets. He countered each intrusion with practiced responses, anger substituted for sadness, real or imagined betrayals denying the happier memories. The only place he felt free if it all was in the gun well, losing himself in the stars.

Rey's presence was a constant whisper in his senses, tethering him to his body when his mind would drift too far. He had imagined a hundred ways they would be together, side by side, but in all of them she ruled with him, accepting her power and her place. They could not be like this. He couldn't bear for her to see him as something to pity or to look after like some beaten dog to be rescued and cared for. His pride could not allow it.

And so he avoided her, slowly nursing his wounds in silence and isolation. As long as they were on this ship he would never feel her equal. 

He almost ignored the offerings she had left, too proud to take her charity, but the smell of fresh bread and the discomfort of the too small clothes nagged at his common sense. The better part of him knew it was a kindness born of the goodness in her, not a condescension. No, that was only what it would have been had their roles been reversed.

Surprisingly, the clothes fit rather well. Ben retreated with his pastry back into his nest to think. Honestly it was tiring, working so hard to avoid her, when all he had wanted when they were separated by the vast galaxy was to be nearer to her. But now she was a reminder of expectations, of guilt that he wanted desperately to avoid. It had been much easier to be on the other side of their relationship, the one in power trying to sway her to his way of thinking.

Reaching out and pressing a palm to the window between himself and space, he felt the cold leeching into his hand. He was tired of his own thoughts, tired of indecision and inactivity. With a growl he uncurled his legs and headed down the narrow ladder and towards the cockpit.

This ship may have been a piece of space trash, but it was one he knew well, and it was time to use it for something useful. Restlessness burned in him and he needed something to fight. There was only one way to make sure he found one.

Rey sat in Chewie’s seat and twiddled the dial on the scanner, shifting the degree ever so slightly, and listened. The frequency gave her only a thin whine of static. Dead, unless it simply wasn’t in use. But it didn’t feel right either, didn’t give her that fizz in her senses that happened when she knew she’d hit the right path.

Or maybe this was too small a thing for the Force to care about.

She straightened and made to stand, just as a massive figure strode purposefully to the captain’s chair, nearly knocking her back into the copilot’s seat. She sucked in a breath, glad she wasn’t the type to squeak or scream when shocked.

She hadn’t felt him get nearer. Possibly because his mind wasn’t as dark as usual. No, right now it was hard and sharp, focused narrowly as a rapier on a task.

Ben kept his mind focused on his actions, not allowing it the freedom to consider the history of the chair into which he dropped. There was too much weight there, tangled up in a mess that he was putting off dealing with for as long as possible.  For now it was just a chair, just a ship. A tool like any other.

Ignoring Rey as she ducked back into the chair beside him, Ben began to run his hands over the familiar console, tweaking settings and flipping switches that no longer served their original purpose. Clearly the falcon had been well cared for, but maintaining her and really knowing how she wanted to fly were two different things.

Calling up the flight plan, Ben frowned. They were going the opposite direction from where he needed. Without asking, he modified the heading, resetting their path and confirming coordinates with the ship's computer. If they had been going anywhere important, he was sure Rey would say something. 

She watched him work. He had Han’s hands, and it hurt to see them moving easy and sure over the controls, changing things for reasons she couldn’t read, but which his focused mind knew were right.

Their modified trajectory directed them to a different part of the outer rim, and though Rey wanted to ask why and where, part of her was afraid to speak, lest she spook the silent shadow that had invaded her cockpit.

Was it really her cockpit, though? Or did he, Han’s son, truly own it? No, he didn’t want it. He knew the ship down to every bolt, or he had, before Unkar Plutt had messed with it. Still even many of those modifications had been undone by Han or Chewie or Rey herself.

It was when he reached for a set of toggles in the middle that she reached out to snatch his hand. It was a shock of cold, his skin, as if he’d been holding it against the transparisteel in the gunwell. Was he always this cold? It would explain the scalding temperature of the showers.

“I bypassed the old Corellian phased array controls. I rerouted them there-“ she pointed to a dial above them, which used to control a defunct holo display. “These toggles start up the ventral boosters. I needed one I could reach, since I didn’t have a copilot.”

She realized she was still gripping his hand and relaxed her fingers. It might not have been a disaster for him to find that out on his own, but she’d wanted to keep from surprising him. His wide eyes said she had shocked him anyway.

For the briefest moment Ben had almost forgotten she was there, but when Rey's hand touched his it sparked through him and his surroundings flooded back. It was almost hard to hear her words, the heat of her skin burning against his own. His mind recalled the number of times they had reached out, from the first brush of their hands to all the times they had refused each other. As her grip loosened he almost stayed frozen in place, the connection both comfortable and almost painful, but instead he snatched his hand away. She felt like danger.

"It never did quite work right anyway." He looked away from her, readjusting his hands on the controls. "This junker has been falling apart for years."

She lifted her eyebrows in acknowledgement. “It wasn’t my first choice of escape vessel from Jakku,” she said. “But it got me where I needed.”

Rey glanced at the controls on her side, clicked a few things into place to balance out his optimization choices. Had Chewie put them this way? The wear on the buttons seemed consistent, and if anyone would know all the insane ins-and-outs of this ship, it was the man who’d probably been half raised on it.

Her fingers had picked up some chill from his skin, and she couldn’t bring herself to look at him until it had faded away. When she did, it was only a sidelong glance. The deep blue shirt suited his pale skin and dark curls. It was a shade his mother would have worn, and he’d certainly inherited her complexion, and her eyes. His hair seemed too dark for either his father of his mother, but she’d never claimed to understand genetics. Perhaps one of Han’s parents had contributed to the deep color of those curls.

His scar stood out to her. She’d given him that, and though the puckered line vanished beneath the collar of his shirt, she knew it went further. She’d seen it, more than once, in their connections. That first time had been a shock, seeing him shirtless and unashamed, daring her to look closer at his past, and hers, and him. The scar was an arc across his shoulder and collarbone—the only physical representation of how they had changed each other.

“That fits you better,” she said, not sure if she should acknowledge it or not. She didn’t want thanks and doubted he could bring himself to give them. She just needed something to say.

"Well enough," he acknowledged distantly. Being this near to her in person almost seemed less real than the times they had traveled to one another. Harder to understand, harder to escape.

Reaching across her towards the scanner, he fiddled with the frequency tuners. The numbers and codes were all memorized, every avenue of communication that the First Order used to escape. "Set the recorder," he commanded her, falling easily into old habits as messages began to trickle across the screens. "We can decode them later." 

She took a moment to find the recorder and set it. “Is this how you’re finding them?” She asked. “I didn’t think the First Order would continue using the same frequencies after you…left.”

Ben snorted. "You overestimate their creativity and autonomy. I didn't choose to fill the ranks with soldiers who excelled at independent thinking. The last thing strong leadership needs is a mass of idiots with opinions." He leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Rey lifted an eyebrow. She’d seen plenty of times when that very thing might have been true—from everything she’d heard, if Finn, Rose, and Poe had obeyed Admiral Holdo, the resistance wouldn’t have suffered so many losses.

Then again, if everyone but the leaders had been grunts without opinions, there would never have been a resistance to stem the oppression of the First Order.

It seemed like the wrong thing to say, though, so she settled on something slightly less provocative as a reply. “How do you find new leaders if you fill the ranks with barely-competent drones?”

“Clearly you never met my barely-competent leaders." Ben's lips quirked in what might have almost been a sneer, but then it was gone. "They did try to vary their frequency in the days right after the fall of our last base," his gaze darkened, as if the loss still dug at his pride, "But in a terribly predictable way."

Rey chewed her lip, processing his words. How much of his attempt to listen in on First Order communications had been based on a desire to return? He’d have floundered in those first few days, unmoored and without clear direction. A sudden, reflexive regret and desire to go back to a world that was familiar would have made sense.

But he hadn’t gone back. He’d stayed his course in the only way he could figure out how.

“You were always too smart for them,” she said instead. And in her mind, where he’d hear if he wanted to listen,  _You were always too good for them._

Ben frowned, brows furrowing.  Somehow the words both spoken and unspoken only made him angry.  They reminded him too much of others, thrown at him again and again in attempts to sway him.  Pleas and veiled compliments that all boiled down to one thing at their core.   _Ben chose wrong, Ben can't be trusted, Ben can do better..._  It dug at him, wearing away at his patience.

With a last glance at the console to check that all was in place. Ben shoved out of the chair and strode from the suddenly confining room.  His thoughts tumbled chaotically again, tangled and twisted with his own doubts.  He was tired of being questioned, soothed, placated like a child.  From Luke, from Leia, from-  He slammed that door closed before the face could appear.  He saw it often enough in his nightmares.  He struggled again with the inner demons that never seemed to let him find peace in his own mind.  Her words hadn't been insulting... not on their own. He could recognize that they were meant to flatter not to wound, but they had struck a point that still stung.   _Ben makes bad decisions._

Pain stung through his hand, breaking away the shell of negative thoughts, clearing his mind.  He slowly dropped his fist away from the corridor wall, knuckles bruised and sore.  With a deep breath he embraced the pain, letting it calm him, distract him, center him.  Pain brought a sense of clarity to his disorganization.  What he hated most of all was that they weren't entirely wrong.


	4. 50 Porgs

They went another 15 parsecs without talking. In that time, Rey kept busy with the inevitable repairs. Age and porgish nesting meant a lot of time spent reaching into panels or crawling half inside ducts to find stripped wires or empty settings for pilfered circuitry. Every so often, she checked the recorder. When there was something to decode, she patched an alert through to the gun well and made herself busy with the engines or the galley.

The last of her bread was gone, and she found herself missing the hot meals of the Alliance’s provisional galley. She missed Finn, too. His warmth and humor and loyalty. She missed Rose’s quick smile and Poe’s hotshot passion. She missed BB-8 and Chewie. She missed Han, and Leia.

Strangely, she missed Ben, or the version of him that came out only in moments. She missed the Ben across the fire, who’d told her she wasn’t alone. She missed the Ben that had fought by her side, or the quiet Ben that had visited her through the Force one night, when the loneliness and loss had threatened to consume her. He’d said nothing. The Supreme Leader of the First Order, and the last Jedi of the Resistance had lain, side-by-side, in their respective beds across the universe, knuckles brushing. They’d been simply there, together, needing the kind of understanding only the other could provide.

That Ben hadn’t shown himself yet. Even his presence that day in the cockpit had been agitated, resentful. She was starting to feel alone again.

Or maybe she was simply feeling restless.

He no longer went out of his way to avoid her, as he had in his first days on the ship, but he didn't make contact with her either.  Conversation seemed unnecessary and pointless to him, they had nothing left to say. 

Fully healed from the strain of his captivity, Ben took to exercising regularly in the main lounge of the ship, the only room really big enough to accommodate even a fraction of the pent up energy that was building in him. Even without his lightsaber, he could run through forms and imagine the way his blade would just melt through that plastic, spark off the holoboard, and carve this blasted ship to rubble.

He needed the release of battle, the chance to take out his frustration on something... or someone. The nagging voices in his head that insisted he try to do right left him only one option when it came to venting on those who were deserving.

When the computer finally pinged that they were nearing their destination and the familiar shuddering of the ship intensified with the drop from hyperspace, Ben hurried to the cockpit and evicted a huddle of porgs from the seat of the captain's chair with an absent flick of the force.  Indignant squawking surrounded him and he did his best to ignore the irritating little beasts.

Stars once again surrounded them, pinpricks of light in the vast dark of space.  Rising in the distance was the familiar hemisphere of Toland's fifth moon, currently home to a tiny and irrelevant mining company, one dirty spaceport, and the sleek ship that Ben had taken with him when he had fled the fall of the First Order.

He had hopped a transport from the moon to the surface of the planet where Rey had found him, and with any luck the idiots hadn't actually traced his path back to the ship.  The decoder necessary to understand the First Order transmissions--and encrypt his own-- would still be installed aboard.

“Your ship,” Rey said, looking at the sleek, compact vessel. When he’d told her why they’d come to this port, her mind spun in a hundred directions. Was Ben trying to escape her? Was he trying to run somewhere else? Or was it simply too hard for him to stay aboard the Falcon? He needed room and autonomy to feel sane.

She’d reached out, intending to just examine his intentions, but found herself fighting the desire to hold onto him with her mind, to make sure he wasn’t going to leave her behind. Like everyone else had, until Finn.

“I thought it would be...” she gestured expansively. She should have known it wouldn’t be the Upsilon-class shuttle whose silhouette had seared into her brain, but she’d expected something similar, if less recognizable. This thing wasn’t even large enough to have a separate berth. His bunk would be right in the cockpit.

"What, extravagant?” Ben said. “Recognizable?" His tone was laced with defensive sarcasm.  "That would serve me very well.  I'd go from being the most hated person in the galaxy to being the most targeted as well."

Swinging out of the pilot's seat as soon as the ship touched down, Ben was halfway down the hall towards the falcon's cargo ramp before he even realized that Rey was not with him.  Pausing, he waited for a moment, fingers tapping impatiently against his leg.  Usually she was the first one off the ship, her energy bouncing excitedly off the walls.  Now she felt suddenly almost... muted.

Annoyed, Ben backtracked to the Falcon's cockpit, surprised to find her still there.  There was a tense uncertainty about the set of her shoulders, a curling in that made her seem smaller.  It brought back memories of the Rey he had first met, unsure of herself and her place in things. The Rey that he had believed he could win to his side.

"What are you doing?" he snapped.  "You're the mechanic, I'll need your help. The Betrayalhas very complicated wiring."

The coil of uncertainty in Rey’s stomach spooled out a bit when Ben ducked back in, looking irritated that she hadn’t immediately been at his heel. He might have arrogantly expected her to dog his footsteps, but at least he wasn’t trying to leave her behind. Not yet.

“Is she offline?” Rey asked, immediately alert to the ship outside the viewport. She ignored its ridiculous name. It was an injured thing, apparently, standing defiantly in its berth like there was nothing wrong. She was out of her seat, brushing past him so close his shirt caught against her jacket. But then she was down the loading ramp, and he was the one making long strides to catch up.

"She's in fine condition, minus a few scrapes and bruises."

Ben didn't feel like pointing out a few minor cracks in the casing of the ship's main console which may have been caused by the pilot, rather than outside attackers.

"What I need your help with is dismantling her communication system. She has a built in decoder-" He paused to press his hand against the ship's sleek hull, letting it read his palm print and his bio electric signature. She had always only been his, coded to him, a private vanity even when he had fancier First Order ships on which to traipse around the galaxy. "-that can process the readouts we've been storing. Also a scrambler we can use to answer."

There was an eagerness in him, an excitement to hunt again.  "Just... try not to hurt her too much. I'd like her to still be in once piece when we're done, even if she has to stay here for a bit longer."

Protective of his ship. Well, that was something he’d gotten from Han. Rey felt the excitement vibrating through him, and it echoed across her skin with the same intensity. For once, it wasn’t the black excitement that overcame him before a fight. Well, there was a bit of that, but there was another kind too—a relief that the days of inaction had an end in sight.

They were both creatures of movement—too much stillness, and they grew restless and despondent. Action kept the harder parts of the world at bay, whether it was scavenging or training or protecting or killing. They could affect the world. They could mark it. Stillness left no marks. At least not the kind that either of them were suited to make.

She followed him onto the ship, heading straight for the communications console. “You have tools?” She asked, and snagged the case from the webbing where he pointed. She crouched, flicking the vibrorazor out enough to slice down the edge of the paneling. A few more cuts, and she set the panel aside, then peered into the vast, fibrous network.

There were wires as thick as her finger, and others as thin as hair, all expertly corralled and twisted into patterns that were necessarily geometric and precise. The thinner ones glowed, betraying the fact that they were made of some crystalline semiconductor, suspended in fluid. In other words, impossible to cut.

Rey leaned back and looked up at Ben. “Complicated wiring?” She demanded, annoyed at the understatement. “I hope you’re not expecting to install this on the Falcon. We’d need to buy a crystalline suspension converter to let it communicate with older tech, and an offboard battery to power it. We’d loose 70% in power conversion if we tried to run it off the Falcon’s, and we chug enough fuel as it is.”

Ben frowned. "Well we won't both fit over here, so installing it on the Falcon is the only option."  He crossed his arms over his chest. “Make it work however you need to, it makes more sense than trying to bunk you in the equipment hatch."

He glanced at the small cubby behind and above the pilot's left shoulder, big enough for spacewalking gear and a few weapons. Or approximately eight and a half porgs.

He let his fingers run over the familiar arm of the seat, finding he missed the restrictive confines of the small ship. It was centering to have so little between himself and the cold of space. A small enough ship for it to become an extension of his mind, perfectly responsive. He wished the Falcon were large enough to take her with them.

Rey peered up at him, realizing he simply didn’t understand her concern. “Alright,” she said. “If you have the credits for it, go ahead and get it. It’ll take me a couple of hours to get it disconnected.” She started to lean back down, then shot back up. “And a spool of crystal wire. And extra suspension fluid.”

She was back in the panel before he responded, already running her hands over the connections.

Ben ran over the list of her requests in his mind, committing them to memory.  "I'll see what I can find, this rock is basically the ass-end of the galaxy."  He watched her work for a moment, appreciating the total focus with which she poured herself into what she was doing, the care with which she handled the ship.  With a reluctant sigh he left to pursue the task assigned to him.

It took some doing—some threatening, some negotiating, and not a small amount of bribing—to find all the parts which Rey had requested.  People here were suspicious of strangers, not in a way that made him wonder if he were recognized, but rather in the general manner of the small-minded and insular.

A brief foray into a few shops also produced a much-needed second change of clothes which were not as dark as he would prefer, but should keep him from standing out in a common crowd. Shirt, pants, a wide belt to cinch the loose shirt at his waist, and a dark vest with useful pockets.

A longer vest cut for females caught his eye, the pockets stitched in a double row around the hips.  It was sturdily made in a dusky green, and it was easy to picture Rey filling the pockets with tools and treasures... and more than likely the last bits of food squirreled away for later.

He added it onto his purchase without thinking, and it wasn't until he was walking out, bags in tow, that it occurred to him that buying something for her and having to give it to her were two entirely different things.

He was still considering his options as he made his way back to the ship several hours later, to find her--unsurprisingly--still elbow deep in his ship's core.  Lifting boxes off of the floater that had accompanied him from the market area, he put them down next to her and nudged her hip with the toe of his boot. "Grease Jawa. I got what you asked for."

Rey finished disengaging the last of the crystalline connections, and was just contemplating how best to get ahold of the transponder when Ben’s boot nudged her. She jerked, not quite enough to damage the delicate circuitry, but enough for it to be obvious she’d stopped marking how near or far his presence had gotten. Part of her wanted to stay in there, because she was certain she was, indeed, streaked in the ship’s lubricant. The rest of her was ready to give her back and arms a well-deserved rest.

She carefully lifted the transponder unit from its cradle. It fit neatly in her palm, but the density of the crystals made it deceptively heavy. She shimmied backwards out of the access duct and tossed the transponder at Ben’s head. He caught it easily with the Force, barely even blinking.

“Grease Jawa?” She said. “That’s the nickname you chose?” The instant her eyes landed on the magsled, she stopped caring that her hair was probably dripping the strange, bluish lubrication required of the pressurized controls that had been above her in the duct. “Oh, perfect,” she breathed, and ducked out the narrow hatch to examine the stenciled boxes. She couldn’t help wondering how many portions Unkar Plutt would have given her for even one of these boxes. She’d have been swimming in rehydratable food.

"Do you have a nickname you'd prefer?" he shot back, reaching out and picking a particularly large glob of blue goop out of her hair before it lost its grip and slid down the side of her neck.

Shaking it off of his hand, he swiped his fingers across his pants. " I had to compromise a bit. If you need anything else we can pick it up later." He looked her over, one brow lifted. "Is there enough lubricant left in my ship for her to function? Or am I supposed to fly you across the galaxy instead?"

“I’m sure that sounded scathing in your head,” Rey said, ignoring the klaxons in her head that said he was standing too close. Her arms were suddenly prickling with cold, and he was tall and broad in front of her. He was a burning presence in her mind, and she could almost feel the warmth radiating off of him. Strange, his hands were usually cold, but the rest of him never seemed to be.

“The ship should be fine aside from the dented panels,” she said. “I think whoever maintained it last was used to a much older ship. They greased it like something that’s been flying since the Clone Wars. It was hard to keep a grip on anything in there.”  
She dug through the boxes, taking note of the compromises, admiring the glitter of the wires.

“As for nicknames…Rey is fine. Just keep calling me that. Unless you’d like me to come up with a nickname for you too. I have some ideas.”

Ben glowered at her, refusing to continue to engage. Attempts to verbally match her always seemed to go badly for him, resulting in embarrassment he had to hide. Picking up the transponder and resetting the bag with his other purchased more firmly on his shoulder, Ben turned and stomped back down the ramp. "Just patch her up as best you can before you come back," he said over his shoulder. "The sooner we get this re-settled the faster we can get off this rock."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rey will call him Porg Lord. Grease Jawa and Porg Lord. I desperately need artwork of them in these tee shirts.
> 
> Was the spacing between POVs better or worse than the asteriks?
> 
> Hope you guys are enjoying this! SOON there will be ACTION and FIGHTING and MOAR ANGST and MOAR PORGS.
> 
> Thanks for reading!  
> ~Sakurazawa (Rey)  
> ~Sathya (Ben)


	5. 64 Porgs, Approximately

By the time Rey had replaced all the panels on the Betrayal, carefully wired the crystalline transponder into the Falcon’s system, and evicted exactly twelve porgs so she could set up the complicated battery system, she was ready for a shower and a thousand years of sleep.

She passed Ben, clearly on his twelfth trip to the cockpit in the past hour to demand an update on her progress. “It’s done,” she said, and sealed herself into the head for a very long shower. She left it at the scalding temperature Ben preferred, letting the hot water beat on her shoulders and strip the grease—real grease, from the Falcon—from her body. She’d taken on a mechanic’s injuries, from the rawness of her hands to the sore knees and elbows. Her hipbone had a bruised line where she’d spent too long laying on the lip of the panel in Ben’s ship.

She scoured herself clean, letting her mind wander out over the little space station. It had become a habit, during quiet times—to meditate a bit in the way Master Skywalker had taught her. Sensing life, and death, and all that lay between. Ben was a massive part of that. She felt her mind settle, felt it lean in his direction as he focused on the codes and decryption.

She startled out of it an instant before the bridge sprang up between them, and caught herself on the sides of the refresher unit. She was in the shower. She was naked. Why was her stupid mind trying to jump her to Ben? That would not be good. That would be...humiliating. Horrible. Terrifying. To say nothing of how he might react.

How would he react?

She had no idea. Part of her wanted to believe he wouldn’t care. He was a handsome, powerful man. She was certain he’d seen plenty of naked women, and she wasn’t a particularly...voluptuous specimen. Men in power liked the sensually-proportioned Twilek dancers whose holograms gyrated in pleasure bars, and Rey certainly did not have those proportions. Which was fine with her—she didn’t particularly care to be attractive, though she supposed some people might find her so. Still, she very, very much didn’t care to be attractive to Ben. The thought of it was...frightening.

Why should it be frightening?

She tried to shake the question out of her head. Now was not the time to be thinking about whether or not she wanted Ben to find her attractive. And she knew the answer anyway: no. She didn’t. She set the refresher unit to pull the water from her skin, then dressed in something easy to sleep in, and ducked into her bunk, dismissing all ideas of Ben and attraction from her mind.

At which moment, her mind immediately rebelled with the unhelpful reminder that  _Ben_  could be attractive too. Could be, and certainly was by any human standards she’d seen the measure of. A little large on the nose and weak on the chin in profile, perhaps, but straight on, definitely attractive. Even with the scar. Even more-so because of it, really.

And there was no question about his proportions—those were right on the credits. She’d gotten a good enough look.

And she would not think about that right now. She would not think about him shirtless, looming over her, his chest at eye-level, or about how he’d been looking down at her when he reached for her hair, just now. She’d wanted to step closer, because the open hangar had made the ship cold, and he just  _looked_  warm, backlit in the dark blue shirt she’d bought him.

Sleep was going to be impossible. Rey rolled up, displacing a quartet of porgs who’d already assembled along her pillow, and strode back to the cockpit to check on Ben.

He stared at the green vest, draped accusingly over the back of the copilot’s chair. It looked oddly incongruous, new and clean against the old, patched, and re-patched chair. His fingers drummed nervously against the console, buzzing with an energy he couldn't control. Why the fuck had he even bothered to get the stupid thing? It's not as though she needed it... Or probably even wanted it.

Trying to ignore its looming presence, Ben turned back to the newly installed transponder, flicking through its settings. Channels hissed and fuzzed, and finally the messages he had been storing began to come through.  He glared at the text, willing it to decode faster, to give them purpose again. He needed that routine to keep his mind clear, to distract from that stupid vest. 

He was glaring at it again when the sound of feet on the corridor outside startled him. With a muffled curse and a flash of sudden panic, he snatched the vest back off of the chair and managed to stuff it into the seat under him just as Rey appeared in the doorway.

"There’s a cell forming in this sector." He spoke quickly, glancing at the transponder. He began to type out a message of his own. "We just have to lure them to one location." 

“How?” Rey asked, easing into the copilot’s chair. Clearly, Ben had been far too engaged in whatever he was doing to have noticed her earlier slip. Or maybe he had. There was something a little twitchy about the way he failed to look at her. “Is there somewhere most of the communications are concentrated?”

"It looks like they’ve been discussing of the state of this sector, planning places to try and find support. They don't think their communication can be intercepted, so the amount of trust they show in any information which comes through is astounding. " His tone was laced with scorn. "I haven't found them difficult to manipulate."

Calling up a star map of the local area, Ben scanned quickly for the kind of trap which he preferred. Small, removed... Populated. Calling up a small and watery planet with only the most basic of space ports, Ben nodded slowly. "There." He began to tap out a quick message, a lure to pull them in. "We can trap them there." 

Rey’s brows furrowed. “Wait,” she said. “There aren’t any landmasses on that planet. The only places to launch an attack on the First Order will be the floating cities. Unless you think we can take them all out in the Falcon.”

Even as she spoke, Rey sensed her words making no waves in his senses. “But you know that,” she said. “You want it to be populated.” She shook her head, revulsion rippling through her. Rey stood, put the copilots seat between them as her eyes took in the schematics. “Why would you put that many people in danger when you have another choice?”

Bracing himself against her horrified disapproval, Ben finished out his message and sent it flying out along the encrypted frequencies.

"A gathering of small ships is mostly unnoticed on such a port. It gives them some sense of security and allows us cover." He kept emotion from his tone, covering it with cold logic. She didn't need to understand the need that burned in him to test his limits, to walk the line between the vengeance of his quest and his control over the Dark side that would gladly consume the innocents around him.

"We can deal with the First Order with minimal effort.” He glanced up at her, gaze challenging. “Don't doubt your power now, Rey. You've seen what we can accomplish together. And your need to protect those around us will only make you stronger."

She didn’t like the way his words made her feel. Part of her rebelled against them, insisting that she didn’t care about strength, and she didn’t want to take part in his recklessness. But another part of her knew that it was exactly why she’d come. The way it felt to fight at his side, the strange high of knowing she could restrain the most powerful man in the galaxy with a few words—he wanted her to feel that now. He wanted her to know that she had to come with him to be the safeguard on his violence. She didn’t like being manipulated.

She also didn’t like that he had a logical point. If the First Order’s remnants kept meeting their end in unpopulated areas, they’d stop going to them. Eventually, it would come back around to this—tricking them into populated areas, and desperately trying to minimize the collateral damage. Ben’s reasoning was logical, but it still didn’t feel right.

Clearly, he’d finished his communication, however, which meant it was too late to stop it.

“I don’t like putting innocent people in danger,” she said.

"People are always in danger."  Ben replied coldly.  "That will never change." 

Watching replying messages scroll across his display, Ben punched in the coordinates for their rendezvous and let the Falcon's computer take care of the rest.  He could already feel the tingling excitement of battle rising in his blood, the headlong rush that would consume him when a weapon was in his hand and the force gathered around him like a storm.

Such times were the only in recent memory when he still felt truly alive.  He leaned back in his chair, itching to get up and pace the halls of the ship restlessly until their landing, but the uneven fabric of the crumpled vest he was still hiding kept him pinned uncomfortably to the seat.  Whatever awkward moment he had possibly had to give it to her was gone now.


	6. 82 Porgs

Approaching the liquid planet, Rey took the controls in hand and began their approach. She’d snagged the pilot’s seat the moment she woke, determined to control at least part of this operation. She would be bringing them into the atmosphere and landing them on this planet—it wasn’t much control, but it was something.

Ben had entered the cockpit just as they slid past the first satellite and lowered himself silently into the copilot’s chair. He wore something new, clearly purchased on Toland’s lunar base along with his ship parts—an ash gray shirt with dark trousers tucked into his much-abused boots. At least it wasn’t all black.

The planet was called Ve’Lutt and, according to the spare data available on her data screen, home to an indigenous species of sentient serpents. The pale blue arc of atmosphere veiling the planet refracted a million rainbows from the planet’s liquid surface. The atmosphere burned around the Falcon’s hull on entry, lighting up in tongues of flame that showed green and whites and blues.

“This atmosphere had better be breathable,” she said, taking them lower.

The floating cities weren't so much cities as factories, moored on vast drills that plunged into the planet’s crust, miles beneath the water’s surface. Something white and crystalline gathered on the Falcon’s viewport, and as they dove closer to the iron mountain of the mining city, she saw drifts of it piling on the water.

“It isn’t water...” she breathed, peering down at the glossy, viscous swells beyond the snowstorm. It was thick as honey, moving with a syrupy kind of surface tension that water didn’t have. As they swooped low over spiked pier, she saw a group of humanoid creatures carving up a fish the size of a speeder. They hurled chunks of it into the ocean.

When the pieces hit, the liquid’s surface went solid as permacrete, shattering the meat. Then, the surface relaxed, and the meat sank slowly, like something being coated in amber, or sinking through the surface of glass.

Ben’s hands were easing toward the copilot’s controls, and Rey jerked her attention back to her landing sequence. They’d scrambled the Falcon’s identifier, using one of the many smuggling names Han had programmed into the system, and assumed the captain and co-pilot’s names.

Rey shrugged on one of the parkas loaded into the holding bay’s lockers. Ben did the same, and they descended the gangplank together.

After checking in with the dock master and negotiating a fuel-up, they made their way across a steel bridge to the Big Island. A cluster of dull steel buildings reached like nubby fingers toward the green-gray sky.

“Where’s our meeting place?” She shouted, feeling her words ripped away by the howling sleet. Wind buffeted them both, and if she hadn’t been using the Force to plant her steps, Rey would have been ripped right off the bridge by the next gust. Her boots did not have the right kind of traction for the crust of ice making slippery ferns across the latticed steel bridge. Rey didn’t swim well, but even if she had, she wasn’t sure anything could swim in that thick ocean. How did anyone live here without the Force?

"Near the warehouses along the eastern wall."  Ben yelled back, feeling the freezing air tear at his throat as he pointed vaguely in the right direction.  The thick fur that lined their coats managed to insulate them from most of the biting wind, but even so he could see Rey shivering as they made their slow way across the bridge.  On the other side the rising steel city around them cut down slightly on the icy blast, and Ben straightened as his balance returned to something more akin to normal.  Face stinging from the sleet, he lifted gloved hands to his cheeks and tried to rub some feeling back into them.

"These people are insane!"  He complained loudly, trying to get his bearings.  All the drab, rectangular buildings looked the same, stark and uninviting.  Most were windowless, though Ben supposed that if these storms were the planet's norm, there wasn't much of a view to bother with.  

"The message I sent out claimed that an arms dealer was willing to meet with the local First Order holdouts, to negotiate for supply.  They were also willing to offer a temporary meeting place to hunker down and re-fuel, as the storms and general shittiness of this planet make for good cover, and lower the chances of 'discovery'."  He laughed into the wind, itching to get into the fight ahead of them.  Each time he engaged, cleaning up a bit more of the mess he had made, he hoped the ghosts that haunted him would cease hovering quite so closely.   

Fumbling under his thick coat, he pulled out the makeshift weapon he had been tinkering with since their stop to raid his ship. He had doubted Rey would approve of re-arming him, and had kept it secret though he wondered if she was truly surprised.  It was a horrible substitute for the lightsaber he had lost when he had been captured, but it was better than nothing.

He had found the scrapped energy weapon in a junk shop on Toland's moon, the carcass of an old First Order energy weapon.  With a few spare parts, a concernedly discounted crystal converter, and a bit of ingenuity, he had managed to get it mostly working again.  It wasn't elegant, and his hands longed for the feel of his lightsaber, but it would do.  Probably.  Falling back slightly to give himself room he extended the jointed haft and twisted it into place, the grip becoming something more akin to the shaft of a spear, or in this particular case, a scythe. Hopefully, he clicked it on to test it.  The confines of the Falcon hadn't really left him much opportunity to do so.  Hissing lines of energy crackled from the converter, twisting and spitting in the air as the crackling blade formed, arcing over his head.  Vibrations shivered up his arm as the power sparked unstably, but it would do.  He halted his steps for a moment, testing a few quick swipes through the icy air.  The long curved energy blade hissed through the snow and ice, steam surrounding him as it hummed.  It would do the job, and the reach of it was an agreeable bonus.  

A sudden feedback of electricity sparked through his glove and the crackling blue-white blade sputtered, winking in and out before the connection completely failed. Cursing, Ben tested the switch again, small sparks hissing as the weapon refused to engage.  He knocked the casing of the grip hard against his other palm, trying to shake into place whatever connection was loose, irritation rising.  He was suddenly aware of Rey watching him, one eyebrow raised, looking amused.  

He growled at her, annoyed.  "What, you expected me to fight them off barehanded?"  Not that it would be impossible, just marginally humiliating.  "Unless you have a better idea, this is it."  He banged the device again, and the blade flickered to life for a moment, then sputtered out again.

Rey tried not to laugh at the sour look Ben was giving his makeshift weapon. Thwarted, he seemed prepared to hurl the thing into the glassy sea.

She extended a hand. “Let me see it.”

He hesitated, as if unwilling to give up his losing battle with the chimerical weapon. After a further beat of scowling, he shoved it into her hand.

Rey examined it. “I wouldn’t rely on this,” she said. “You can still hit people with it, but it’s not going to deflect blaster-fire, or cut through armor.” She considered handing over her blaster, but it was a small thing—meant for smaller hands than Han’s or Ben’s. And she knew where his strength lay, when it came to battle.

With a lightsaber, Ben was brutal, powerful. His movements didn’t have the light grace she’d associated with the weapon of the Jedi, instead approaching the forms with a vicious strength that seemed to shudder through every purposeful strike.

She didn’t know what they were going to get into, but if it got bad, she wanted that Ben. The Ben from Snoke’s throne room who’d saved her as she’d saved him.

Rey reached into the inner pocket of her parka and withdrew the long, brutal hilt. “I thought it might give you away too much,” she said. “But I’d rather not die today.”

Every line of the elegant weapon was imprinted in his mind and in the lines of his palm.  It was a part of him that had been missing, had tingled like a lost limb.  He didn't take it immediately, meeting her eyes with a narrowing gaze as he considered.  "You had it all along."  He said slowly, unsure if it were relief or anger that heated under his skin.  Reaching out, he took it from her, the weight of it balancing him.  The world felt just that little bit more stable, and he felt more himself than he had in some time.  

"And were you ever planning to return it?"

“I didn't have a plan one way or the other,” she said. “But would _you_ have armed you?”

Ben snorted, tucking the lightsaber away on his belt where it settled comfortably.  "Fair enough."

With the matter of how they were going to survive the day settled, Ben took point as they navigated the colorless streets of the floating city.  As they neared their destination, Ben held up an arm to halt their progress, peering down over an icy railing into a warehouse courtyard below.  Several small and battered fighter ships were being hauled into large corrugated sheds to be hidden and repaired, no doubt.  Clearly they had contacts here other than the fake ones that Ben had invented.  How else could they have snuck those ships into the city while bypassing the port.  Ben's mind was already flickering ahead, past the battle to the difficult task of telling innocent from collaborator. 

“How neutral do you think they are?” Rey asked, seeming to follow his train of thought instinctively. “If we get in blaster range, I can stun anyone who’s doing maintenance.”

"More than likely they aren't committed to the First Order, but they would have to be fools not to know what ships they were working on.  Why waste your time trying to save them?"  He questioned her with dark scorn in his tone.  "If they don't care who they help, they'll just be a problem for you again in the future."

Her eyes hardened, and she leaned forward, peering down.

“Killing them is what the First Order would do,” she said. “Thinking like that won’t make the galaxy any better.”

A shear of wind cracked across them both, ripping little whips of her hair loose to lash around her face. “I don’t see any weapons on them. The dealers must be from offworld.”

"Trust me, they're there."  He unclipped his lightsaber from his belt, muscles tensing in anticipation. "Weapons, First Order soldiers...."  He scanned the hangar sheds slowly.  "They may be ragged and unprepared, but don't underestimate them."  Looking at her sideways, he flashed her a grin.  "Don't overthink, Rey.  Just let go and feel the Force... just do."

Before she could stop him he vaulted over the low railing, wind whipping about him as he fell towards the steel flooring below.  He was drifting, power waking in him again as the Force gathered around him and he landed lightly.  They were already turning to face him, surprise and confusion on their faces.  That confusion gave rapid way to shock and not a small amount of fear as his lightsaber extended with a low hum, violent red lighting the snow and steam around him with a hellish glow.  Hands were reaching for blasters, men scrambling into the hangars to find hidden weapons, and Ben waded into the fight without even looking back to see if Rey had followed.

Rey watched him go, wondering why his impulsiveness even surprised her. He was a black smudge through the sleet, but he crackled with building power in her senses. There was an eagerness, a craving for violence that cut into her senses like a sharp scent.

Ben’s lightsaber shuddered to life, and the sight of it sent a visceral jolt through her. Rey drew her blaster, set it to stun, and gazed out at the buildings. She needed to get closer!

The hangars opposite the courtyard were attached to her building by heavy steel cables. With a bracing breath, she took a running start and leapt.

Rey landed on the cable, steadied herself with the Force, and skated down the line, slicing through the storm. She hit the roof of the hangar at a run and tumbled, dispersing momentum in a roll. On one knee, she began to fire.

Blaster shots from the nearby buildings hissed through the air around him, and with lazy ease Ben whirled his lightsaber before him, deflecting them aside into the snow.  He no longer felt the cold that swirled around him, feeling the Force instead in every fiber of his being.  The dark song that he associated with its power was building in him, seducing, whispering promises of glory and retribution.  It was an ageless song, one that had existed in the world for longer than mankind had even drawn breath, and in him it knew no mercy.  

His footsteps carried him closer to the faceless men who shot at him from behind the sheltering wing of one small ship still waiting in the courtyard.  They were yelling something, words that barely registered.  Pleas, perhaps, to a Supreme Leader they had never expected to see again.  Maybe they had hoped for a useless moment that he was there to take them back again, to build up the First Order into the great power that it had once been.  Muscles tensing under him, Ben leaped into the air, carrying himself on the Force as he spun down behind them, lightsaber slicing through fabric, flesh, and bone like tissue paper. 

It was freeing to let go of all the thinking and worrying, all the frustration of trying to be something other than he was.  A weapon for the Force.  This would always be the place where he felt the most sure of himself, the most awake and free of conflict.  Battle was a drug and he needed it to live.  

They hadn't understood that.  Leia, Luke, Han... they had all equated doing good, being good, with peace and compromise.  With being something he was not.  Only one voice had given him another way to be Ben Solo, a way that he could understand without losing himself.  

 _Finish what I tried to start, Ben._ The spirit had taken his hand when he was the most broken, defeated, running from the ghosts of his old life.

 _I tried_!  He had cried out in pain and anger, adrift.

_No... not what I started in anger.  Not the things that I got wrong.  Finish what I never had the chance to really accomplish, at the end.  To tear it all down, to make it right again.  I saw things too late, Ben. It is not too late for you._

And so he was tearing it down.  Breaking apart the ashes of the old order, giving the new alliance room to grow and breathe although they would never thank him for it. 

To his left a blaster shot dislodged a bank of snow and ice that settled precariously along the roofline, and Ben dodged quickly to avoid it.  A whirlwind of red, and the spinning shield of his lightsaber deflected the next shot back into the chest of the First Order soldier who had fired it.  Ben spun to face the next attack...  but none came.  He roared wordlessly into the frozen air, daring them to challenge him, to face him. 

But there was no one left to advance, only a few huddled technicians who had not made it to the shelter of the hangars.  They crouched beside a tarpaulin-covered heap of space junk, eyes wide as he regarded him.  His body still hummed with the need to fight, to kill, but as he took a step towards them he caught himself.  This was one more reason he always forced his battles into public space...  to prove to himself, to them, that he could walk the line.  As much as he needed the fight, he needed to know that he could stop.

He trembled with the control it took to still his steps, to reign in the power of the Force that raged in him.  Luke had always described it as still waters, a current, a flow.  Ben had never been able to reconcile that with the burning torrent that flooded through him the longer he wielded its power.  His grip on the haft of his lightsaber was deathly tight, trembling as he drew deep and ragged breaths and closed his eyes.  Lifting his face into the wind and the snow he cast his senses out and tested to be certain there were no more threats... at least not of the sort that Rey would forgive him for confronting.

Rey stunned three technicians, but her fire drew noticed from the largest of the three First Order ships. She sensed the shift in the Force, the warning buzzing up her senses an instant before the gun swiveled on its bearing and locked into her.

She snatched up her lightsaber and ignited it with a crackling hiss. A micro-instant later, the ship’s heavy laser ripped through the storm toward her. She met it, gritting her teeth at the heavy impact. Again and again it fired, and Rey leaned into each blast, fighting to keep her footing on the corrugated hangar roof. A shriek of battle ripped up her throat.

The ship had pinned her down with fire, and there were other foes now, more blasters tearing up the air above the courtyard where Ben whirled like a savage dervish. Rey picked them off, deflecting bolts of red and green energy into the First Order operatives.

She assessed her surroundings, saw the mad possibility, and, with a deep breath, extinguished her lightsaber.

She whipped the Force into a wind that gathered the sleet and snow around her in a stormy veil, shielding her from view as she sprinted toward the edge of the roof. A long antenna stretched toward the sky and, with a Force-aided leap, Rey vaulted to the top and grabbed on.

It bent, just as she’d hoped, and delivered her across the alley below, where a pair of shocked stormtroopers were distracted from their attack on Ben. It was the split second he needed to relieve them of their weapons, and their lives. Her boots hit the big ship’s hull and she released the antenna, which whipped back with a wobbly metallic shriek.

The guns swiveled, shot, and Rey skied down the steel hull toward the turret, igniting her lightsaber at the last instant. She deflected a shot, lifted the blade, and swung.

She tripped over smoking metal and sparking circuits, hurtling toward the permacrete head-first. She let out a yelp of pain and flung out her arm.

_Don’t doubt your power now, Rey._

Her mind stilled. Rey’s arms spread like wings and she gracefully swung her body over in a layout, landing boot-first on bloody, steaming ground.


	7. 100 Porgs

The scent of oil and ozone and burning steel swirled around him, and in the chaos of it all Ben could feel her distantly.  She was in pain, but not grievously so.  His mind still buzzed with frustrated violence, tension in every muscle.  It had felt like moments, though he knew it had been long minutes since the battle began.

Ben almost reached out to Rey then, to assure himself of her presence, to help to sooth his raw nerves, but he stopped himself.  No. This was the battle she could not be allowed to help him with, the one he had to conquer on his own.  Only once had he slipped so far that he had been forced to call out to her, and it had set her on this foolish path with him.  He forced numb fingers to open, letting his lightsaber fall to the snow as the red glow flickered out and Ben struggled out from under the weight of the Force, finally letting it go as well.  In its wake he felt stripped and empty, more exhausted by the fight to restrain his darker instincts than from the actual battle.

He opened his eyes and saw her then, slowly coming to a standstill near the torn tracks of a ship.  The Force was still wrapped tightly around her, and he envied the ease with which she seemed to flow within it. Perhaps that was the way of the Light that evaded him still.

A deafening screech of metal echoed in his ears, and the wounded First Order ship rocked in its moorings, tilting towards the edge of the platform.  

The ship’s thrusters engaged, but the antenna was swinging back. It bull-whipped across the ship, smashing stabilizers and sending it rolling on its side, tipping back, back, back...

It cranked over, snapping the cable barrier behind the hangar, and fell. The First Order ship hit the sea, which responded with a glasslike shatter before liquefying again, and slurping the vessel into its gluey hold.

Rey stood, lightsaber ignited, and stared after it, the wind and sleet swirling around her in a Force-controlled shell.

At last, she let it go. Rey extinguished her lightsaber with a hiss and pivoted, her senses already reaching for Ben.

He stood in the middle of the warehouse yard, a tall, dark spire against the dull metal and ice. He buzzed in her brain, his spite-blackened presence rippling with the same unstable energy as his blade. That instability was not, however, the thing that drew her.

No, what drew her was the brutal effort he exerted to clench off that violent fugue, to stop it in its tracks.

And that was why he needed civilians. He needed the temptation to be there, because without it, he could never really be sure he was controlling it. He was the alcoholic who needed to sit with an open bottle and a fresh poured glass, refusing to drink, before he would believe he could. It was a tap he’d barely learned to close, a muscle that needed to be trained, and strengthened.

Rey crossed the yard and scooped up Ben’s heavy, fallen lightsaber. He was a well of dark gravity, and she put a hand on the back of his trembling fist, waiting for it to let go.

Her presence calmed him, but the control he gained was from within.  Slowly he let the tension drain away though he still vibrated with energy, his own, not that of the Force.  He welcomed the gentle pressure of Rey's hand against his own, muffled as it was through the layers of their gloves.  Her face was flushed with exertion and the biting cold.  

"We should go before the fighting draws too much attention."  Ben's voice was rough from wordless shouting.  He glanced towards the shivering technicians whose lives he had spared.  "They'll spread the word, and we don't still want to be here when they do."  He paused, glancing at her.  "Rather, I don't.  You they might welcome with open arms."  He tried to keep the bitter edge from creeping into his tone.

“Go,” she said. “Get the Falcon started up. I’ll handle them.”

He understood why she had not returned his lightsaber to him again, the battle was over and no doubt she felt safer with the token collar back about his neck.  It was not as though it left him completely defenseless.  

Ben made his way slowly back through the metal city towards the spaceport, varying his steps from the path they had first taken.  The commotion had not been small nor silent, and the strange humanoid population of the small city was much more active than they had been.  Keeping his head down, Ben avoided eye contact, huddling into the hood of his parka.  He was another faceless worker in the crowd, the most significant thing about him being the direction he chose to walk.  

As he approached the Falcon he paused, looking up at her with hands stuffed deep into his pockets.  Her hulking outline still carried too many memories, threatening at any moment to slide through lowered defenses.  For a second he saw her with a child's eyes; large, majestic, the hero of stories.  He blinked and she was once again a rusted relic, scarred and barely functioning.  Junk.  Ben resisted the petty urge to kick the ramp as it lumbered jerkily into place.

Stripping free of the parka and gloves, Ben cast them carelessly aside and headed towards the cockpit to start up the Falcon's slow systems.  Restless, he watched the lights flickering on one by one, pacing back and forth behind the seats.  Once ensuring that the start-up program was indeed running as intended, he found his feet carrying him towards the gun well.  It had been some time since he had retreated there, although he still stored most of the belongings he considered to be his in the small space.  There would be no stars to distract him, but the confines and distance from the rest of the ship served him well enough.  

He was already beginning to miss the high of battle and cursed himself for the weakness.  Flinging nesting porgs angrily down the ladder behind him, he settled into his own nest, tucking his feet up against the gunner's console to brace himself in the small seat and wait for Rey to return.

As Ben vanished into the storm, Rey turned back to the technicians and, centering herself, raised her comlink. It would relay from the Falcon’s communication system, down a series of signal jumps, all the way back to the fledgling mass of governmental threads Poe and Finn and everyone else were desperately trying to weave into a republic.

She’d noticed something, while she’d been connected to the Force. The people on this world were desperate and afraid. The drills were out of fuel and their stock had gone unsold when demand from the First Order fell, leaving them without livelihood. The lucky ones had found a way off world, but the rest had to rely on fishing, and dumping enough fish in the water to satisfy the serpents, which were no longer driven away by the vibration of the drills.

“This is Rey,” she said into her communicator. “I’m on Ve’Lutt with Vigilante. We’ve cleared a nest of First Order from this sector, but the people on this world are faltering without someone to buy their minerals. The First Order were their only buyers. They need transport to a more habitable world. Over.”

The two women and three men—at least, she thought the Bothan was a man—pressed tight together at the side of the First Order speeder. Rey nodded at them.

“There’s a republic forming in the core planets. In exchange for your vow to work within the laws of this new cooperative, the former Resistance will offer you transport and aid.”

“You’re her,” one of the women said. “You’re the Jedi, the apprentice of Skywalker.”

Rey sighed, and nodded.

An hour later, Rey opened the cargo hatch of the Falcon and clambered aboard, shivering. The planet certainly had its wonders, but weather could not be counted among them. It didn’t help that she was always so cold after fights, as if the singing adrenaline in her blood had drained away, taking warmth with it.

She shut the hatch and headed straight for the pilot’s seat. She stopped in the mouth of the cockpit, surprised to find it powered up, optimized, and empty.

A patter of tiny feet behind her heralded a string of porgs, which chartered at her in indignant alien complaint. She lifted an eyebrow and followed the little flock back to the gun turret, just in time to hear a shrill “Squooooooooooow!!!” as another ball of blubber and down pitched down the access tunnel.

The porg hit the floor with a prodigious squeak and bounced twice before it controlled its own balance again. It spotted her, let out a shrill chatter, and seemed to gesture back up the turret with its flippers.

Rey shook her head. “You’re the ones who keep going back for abuse.”

She glanced up the turret, but Ben was in the gunner’s chair, positioned out of sight. She banged a fist on the ladder.

“Strap in,” she called. “I have a feeling takeoff isn’t going to be smooth.”

She made a detour to the lounge and, after a second’s thought, removed the heavy lightsaber from her belt and set it on the holo table.

“I’m going to trust you,” she said, more to herself than anyone.


	8. 101 Porgs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Defenses down, the first regrets slip through the cracks of Ben’s dreams. Panic-stricken, he draws Rey to him through the Force...right into the gun turret...right into his lap.
> 
> Rey has thoughts.
> 
> (Somewhere aboard, a late hatchling porg shows its downy face. Innocent. Unknowing it’s cruel fate.)

_Ben stood on a high balcony overlooking the work going on below.  Workers scurried back and forth like ants at his command, preparing his armada for the war to come.  Row upon row of gleaming fighters, newly built and ready at his word to deploy to the fleet of destroyers that orbited in the outer atmosphere of the planet.  Wind swept up from below, scurrying along the black metal of the tower, playing in the crevasses and tangling in his hair.  It carried with it the shouts and clamor of the men below, his men.  The Supreme Leader's men.  The First Order was rising and they would darken the stars and finish the work that the Emperor and Vader had started so many years ago.  Turning away from the view, he stepped through the double doors that led to what should have been the war room--_

_\--chaos surrounded him, soldiers racing back and forth across the ship's decks.  A gout of fire from a side hall threw Ben from his feet as the ship shuddered in space, threatening to tear apart.  His ears were ringing with the klaxons that blared and the screams of a nameless ensign pinned beneath a falling panel.  Stumbling to his feet, Ben threw his hands out to catch himself as he tried to catch his balance, panic thudding in his chest.  This was all wrong, he could not be here.  He had not been here.  The ship was both achingly familiar and unknown to him, most certainly not of First Order design.  It was one of the old class of trading ships re-purposed for the newly reinvigorated rebel alliance.  He cursed them even as he headed in the direction that should be the command center.  They had brought this upon themselves, refusing to give up, to crawl into the holes they had come from!  The last survivors should have disappeared, taken their miserable little lives and lived them.  He was running now.  He knew the battle, knew what came next.  He had given the order to take the ship as collateral for the surrender of the insurgents, but Hux had ignored the message.  Ben raced the inevitable._

_The doors of the command center were before him when the first photon torpedoes tore through the hull of the ship, explosions deafening.  Heat seared his skin, breath ripped from his lungs as ship and space seemed to shatter around him.  He could feel his flesh tearing away, blood and screaming filling the void around him suddenly silenced by the vacuum.  He was dying, but it was not him, it was her death he was feeling.  It burned through every fiber of his being, shredded through his soul.  Her arms were around him, soothing him, singing away his childish tears, and then she was gone and the Force was empty and the cold was all that remained.  He was dying with her, he was--_

_\--standing in the ruins of the ship.  Shattered fragments drifted lazily, silently across a backdrop of night.  The twisted metal catwalk upon which he stood turned slowly in space, and yet he was grounded upon it as the bodies of the dead wandered out into the stars.  Ben turned slowly, a distant observer in the midst of destruction.  There was no color here, only night and shades of grey.  As he turned he felt the presence on the catwalk with him, and the weight of his lightsaber in his hand.  It sparked suddenly red, casting hellish shadows across the colorless scene, and Han watched him with the eyes of the dead.  Han stood anchored as well, only a hand's reach from him on the narrow catwalk that floated through the remnants of what had been Leia's ship.  He was speaking, but Ben couldn't make out the words, the emptiness of the galaxy stealing them away from him.  There were tears in Han's eyes that Ben suddenly hated.  How dare he cry, act the victim!  They had turned their backs on him!  They had abandoned him, given up on him, tried to kill him!  He was screaming silently at Han's tears, at the regret and apology carved into the deep lines of his tired face._

_His hands were not his own, and as the red glow came between them, as Han's eyes widened in shock and pain, Ben drew back in horror.  It wasn't right, it hadn't been like this, it hadn't been--_

_\--Rey, falling slowly to her knees as her hands came up in shock to cover the wound.  Her eyes met Ben's with confusion, and his lightsaber fell from nerveless fingers.  He reached out to her, desperate, pleading, hands covering hers as blood poured through their fingers and beaded, drifting into space like rubies cast aside. His screams were still denied him in the unforgiving silence, as were the words her lips struggled to form as she sagged in his arms._

Ben shuddered awake, gasping for air.  His mind was chaos and pain, the smallest sounds around him suddenly deafening.  He couldn't get his bearings, couldn't shake off the fragments of his dreams as they threatened to strangle him.

 _Rey_!

His mind screamed, instinctively reaching for her in the dark.  The Force that spiraled down their connection hunted her down and latched onto her, dragging her to him with all the desperation that shuddered through him.

She must have been dreaming, though what about, she couldn’t say. Grief detonated in her mind, sending out a burst of shrapnel memories, all of them twisted with the cruel logic of dreams. She saw Han’s face, the glow of Ben’s lightsaber. Her own face. Her death.

Then she was in his arms, in the Falcon’s gun turret, furiously scraping her mind back into order. Ben was shuddering, those long, powerful arms clenching her with rib-cracking force. His pain gouged her, opening her up like a vibroblade to the heart. It hurt so much she could barely move. Even so, she reacted instinctively, winding him up as if she could shield him from his own past just by holding him tight enough.

She whispered his name, grounding him with her voice, even as the world became clearer and firmer around him. She was here, but she wasn’t. She was Visiting, pulled in by his sudden need. Strange, that the world was beginning to resolve around them. Maybe proximity made it easier to see his surroundings.

The gun turret was too small for two, or it would have been, had he not jerked her through like this. She was in his lap, both arms around his neck, with her hands searching down his back for somewhere to touch that would make him calm. His fear was frightening, and she sensed how unprepared he’d been to deal with the grief.

“Shhh, you’re here,” she said. “You’re safe, Ben. It’s not real. It’s not real.” His hair was thick and cold between her fingers. She carded a hand through it, the curls as dense and rich against her palms as they’d always looked. Her other hand joined the first, rubbing his scalp with her fingers and clenching handfuls of curls like she sometimes did with her own hair, after letting it down for the night. She had no idea what she was doing, but the burning edges of his panic were fading, so she kept on.

The images of his nightmares still crashed through his mind, blinding him to the world around him.  He still didn't know how she could feel so real, but questioning the Force's ability to bring them together was the last thing he cared to do just now. She was warm in his arms, and most importantly she was alive.

He clung to her like a raft in a storm, struggling with waves of emotion he was unprepared to handle.  He wanted to scream, wanted to rage, wanted to convert it all into fury and physical pain.  That was easier to process, to deal with.  His temper had always been his refuge... but in the end he knew it solved nothing.  Instead he shook in her arms, holding her with a desperation he couldn't explain.  He didn't trust himself not to fly apart if he let her go.

There were no tears to his pain, there couldn't be.  To have allowed them would have been to admit to things he was not ready for, so instead he began to force the memories and emotions back into their little bottles and boxes one by one.  Tucking them away to be stored, ignored, dealt with another day.  He focused inward as Rey's hands soothed his body and his soul, anchoring him long enough to go through the process of burying the unwanted away again.

As he slowly became more aware of the world around him, the warmth of Rey's body tucked in so close to his own began to sink into his skin.  She filled his arms perfectly, and the connection between them burned more brightly than it ever had.  A distant part of him struggled with the knowledge that he had always wanted her to be this close to him.  It was part of why he had always tried so hard to bring her to his side.

She felt the moment he regained his grip on the present. His breathing—which had been sharp and shallow—dragged in deeper now, and there was a general easing of the tightness in his body. The lines of his arms and back slumped, and the roughness of his hold on her became something less violently desperate. Rey’s palm slid over his jaw on its way back into his hair, feeling the stubble that had blossomed over the past quarter cycle.

It was real. It felt real. He felt real, but he wasn’t. She wasn’t even really here, though the Visitation had smell and weight and temperature to it. He was warm, just as she’d thought. And he was gradually putting himself back together.

As Ben’s mind slowly cleared, he became more aware of the reality of Rey's body curled against his own, the weight of her in his lap. Even though she was more ghost than girl, the space was too close for them, drawing them together by necessity.  

Ben felt almost as though he were still dreaming, the dream simply shifting to one that was far more welcome, one that was familiar to him.  It was not the first time that he had caught himself wondering what they would be if she had not refused his offers, if she had opened up to him and joined him at the head of the First Order.  They would have been unstoppable, inseparable, and he would never let her be betrayed or abandoned again.

His hands were warming against the small of her back, and through the light fabric of her tunic he could feel the delicate ripples of her spine under her skin.  Her neck against his face was smooth, and the scent of her filled his senses.  He relaxed into her arms, letting his thoughts drift to her as he pulled her closer against him.

She became aware of his hands, spanning her back, pulling her into him with something that was at once intense and gentle. His face pressed against the bare collarbone and neck above her sleeping tunic, and his breath ghosted warm from a mouth that close enough to taste her skin.

Suddenly, she felt every part of him, from the swells of muscle in his chest pressing against her side, to the long line of his back moving beneath his gray shirt. The fingertips of one big hand moved along the nodes her spine as his other arm slid around her tighter, drawing her in with a deeper, more patient kind of hunger.

Rey couldn’t breathe. He was suddenly unknown in her arms, a different kind of creature than the haunted thing that had called her here—this creature had a vast, dark gentleness to him, but a gentleness with teeth, teeth that wanted to sink into her and never set her free.

His thighs under her were relaxing, and as he pulled back from her fingers in his hair, she realized he was going to look at her. Terror shuddered through her, terror and denial, because she knew what would be in those dark eyes. It called out to her now, howling into her soul for a response.

And something in her called back.

Rey ripped free, gasping, and sat up straight in her bunk. She scrambled back against the wall, kicking down the bedclothes and scrabbling her hand for her lightsaber.

For a moment she stared at the door, as if expecting Kylo Ren to rage through it.

Panic seeped out of her slowly, and then she was alone, and the place where Ben lived inside her head was sealed tight, battened down from his end.

“Damn,” she sighed. Why had she pulled away? Wasn’t the whole purpose of coming here to hold him together when he was threatening to fall apart?

But he’d been finished falling apart, and she’d held him together. It’s just that the holding had suddenly changed moods, and become... _touching_. And touching Ben was dangerous.

She did not want to  _touch_  Ben Solo. Even if blood still pounded through her in the rhythm of his name. Even if she still felt his hands on her back, big and powerful and terrifying and far, far too welcome.

She swallowed, stood up, and flipped the lock on the bunk door, just to be certain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dammit, Rey. Just admit you wanna touch the Ben. We’re with you. ~Sakurazawa


	9. 6 Porgs, then 60

They adeptly avoided ever discussing what had happened—and not happened—between them that night. Ben was unwilling to face the demons behind his carefully constructed walls again, and Rey seemed determined to pretend she’d not gotten an up-close glimpse of them.

They fell into a routine. For a Core-Planet month, they ate and flew and maintained the Falcon, stopping here and there to fuel-up, resupply, and purge the porgish population. All the while, Ben monitored the First Order channels with something resembling obsession.

At times he could feel her watching him, could read the curiosity in the unprotected corners of her mind. She wondered what drove him so, what had taken him down this path. He remembered her own words, thrown at him in defiance so long ago, when she’d turned his mind reading back on him.

_You're afraid you will never be as strong as Darth Vader._

She had not been wrong, but she couldn't know that it was now Anakin's words, Anakin's stolen legacy which drove him forward when the darkness sang for him as the light once had.

When he found patterns in the message origins, Ben set his traps with care. And though he knew it still bothered her that he drew their conflicts into populated areas, she'd stopped questioning the action. She seemed to understand his need to push his limits again and again, testing his control.

Always, in the aftermath, she stopped to make sure the citizens were cared for, to reassure them and promise aid. And always Ben retreated into the isolation he needed to re-gather his thoughts. He couldn't bring himself to care as she did, but through her eyes and the brush of her mind he found the actions less of a mystery than he once had.

Yet another pattern emerged over the course of the missions. Leaving his lightsaber on the field of battle had become his newest test, forcing fingers tight with anger and a hand that struggled to betray him to release both the Force and his weapon and walk away. Each time it was returned to him without words—a token of the trust building in their unstable partnership.

The dusky vest he’d bought her still lay hidden in his quarters, wrapped in the shop's wrinkled paper, a constant reminder of the things between them that had  _not_  changed.

Since they’d crossed the last relay, Finn had sent Rey fourteen messages. Each was little more than a sentence long, often second-guessing or adding onto his previous question or concern. And most of those questions and concerns revolved in a tight orbit around a single subject: Ben.

More thoughtful updates came from Rose and Chewie and Poe, detailing the work they were all doing to rebuild this new government, asking hopefully when she was going to come home. Home. It was a word that hadn’t meant anything before she’d met them. There was a tension to the question that grew clearer the longer she stayed away, and no clearer than Poe’s single message.

_> > Aid on its way. One of these days you’ll give me a report in person. It’d be good to see your face, Kid. We all miss you. (Finn claims most, but I get second. Okay, I get third, according to BB-8. They just don’t understand what we have.) Take care of yourself, and good work. Force with you, Poe_

She could see him in her mind, tucked in a side-passage to snare a few quiet moments to read and respond to her report. She tried to imagine the uniforms Rose had described, with their deep green or navy jackets, but all she could see was the tiredness on his face, the almost listless words: We all miss you.

Rey read the several times, understanding what he’d written between the lines. They were worried. They didn’t like her being out here, with Ben. But they were so close to another mark, and this one, according to Ben’s most recent communication, dealt in Being trafficking. If they could bust up this First Order ring, they could free hundreds.

She strode into the cockpit, intending to send a response to Poe, and flicked a porg from its seat just behind Ben’s shoulder. They’d already evicted nearly a hundred at their last space port, but the dammed things were multiplying.

“Any luck triangulating?” She asked, dropping into the copilot’s chair.

Fingers moving lightly over the controls, Ben brought up a star map and zoomed in on one small planet. “The majority of the relays seem to be coming from this planet. Artas is mostly a black-market trading planet with minor mining facilities pretending legitimacy. Local trade consists mainly of deep-crust stone and slaves. No major cities. Auction houses hidden in the dunes keep a regular rotating stock, trading flesh on the black market."

The planet spun slowly, and he narrowed in on a seemingly empty section of the surface.  "There's a small town here populated mainly by slavers and their product. One major holding facility, or 'Wayhome' as they call them, and they've been in contact with the First Order several times."

Glancing at Rey he arched an eyebrow at her.  "They're not technically First Order themselves, but I take it you have no problem with me killing these ones as collateral?  I never know, you have odd standards."

“I have normal standards,” she said, flicking a switch to bring the planet’s information up. “You’re the one whose standards are all over the place. And no,” her tone darkened. “I won’t take issue over a couple of dead slavers. Just hands off the...”

Horror slid up her face. Horror, and something cold that seemed to drain the blood from her bode. “...children. The slaves. They’re all children.” She swallowed, and looked at Ben. “Is this where the First Order got its stormtroopers? Like Finn.”

He shrugged.  "Sometimes.  It's one convenient avenue.  Orphanages, slavers, or taken from conquered worlds. The younger they are the more easily they conform."  He frowned, looking through the readout she had pulled up.  "A few of these would do, but many are too old to be of much use as stormtroopers.  More likely the First Order is attempting reconstruction somewhere and is looking for easy and untraceable labor."

He leaned back, considering.  "A troop ship will be landing in a few days to collect the stock, we can intercept them then."

“Don’t call them  _stock_ ,” Rey said. She swallowed, failed to put her revulsion into words, and pulled up her communicator. Her message back to Poe was going to have to change—she couldn’t wait for the trouble to be over, couldn’t risk that she and Ben might fail, and all these children would be sold off.

 _They sold you for drinking money_.

She shoved the memory of those words from her mind, twisting the grief into determination.

_> >Requesting immediate aid. FO child slave ring. Shari sector. Will patch through navigation soon. Bastards. Tell everyone I miss them._

They spent the next few days in lazy orbit around the planet, waiting for the right time to move on the slavers location. Rey's mind was prickly in Ben's awareness, the same buzzing loneliness that he had sensed in her when they had first met, when they had warred to learn each other’s weakness. He had always wanted to soothe that loneliness in her, a loneliness that called out to his own.  They were the only two of their kind in the galaxy, and that both drew them together and isolated them.

He gave her space, spending his time with delicate repairs to his lightsaber and long bouts of restless pacing. The porgs were beginning to get underfoot again, they would have to do yet another cleaning out of the nests in the machinery when they reached the planet's surface. So far, the small resilient creatures had seemed oddly capable of adapting to just about every biome they encountered.

When the ship's radar finally pinged acknowledgement of a new ship entering the planet's airspace, both he and Rey were so on edge that they almost collided in their hurry to reach the cockpit.  Sliding into their chairs, Ben quickly went through the process to begin to bring them down to the surface.  The familiar rush of adrenaline was already building in his veins.

One upside to Ben beating her to the pilot’s chair was that Rey could hit the cargo ramp the instant the Falcon’s thrusters disengaged. The hydraulic landing gear was still hissing with the ship’s weight when she strode out into the blazing desert. Moisture licked off her skin, but she didn’t think the dryness in her mouth came from the arid landscape.

It felt like Jakku, which meant it felt half like home, half like prison. It was like suddenly remembering she had an illness.

The little pods of buildings ranged out ahead of them, ramshackle and barely serviceable as shelter from the sun. They clearly weren’t meant as homesteads. A sandstorm would blast through and suffocate anything trying to hide between the corrugated slats.

She’d brought her staff—it blended in well enough—but the weight of her lightsaber was welcome at her hip. She didn’t wait for Ben. What good were long legs if you couldn’t catch up?

As quickly as he could, Ben walked the falcon through its shut down procedures, leaving the rest of the sequence to the on-board computers.  The hot dry air of the planet's surface hit him before he even reached the cargo bay, and Ben braced himself for it.  He hated hot planets, the way heat seemed to sap energy from a person's body and deaden one's limbs.  

Ben hurried down the ramp, hearing the whining sound of the hydraulics complaining as it drew closed behind him.  Rey was already a distant figure, her steps carrying her towards the small settlement beyond.  On the other side of the buildings the dark and brooding profile of a First Order ship hunched menacingly against the sky.  They would have seen the Falcon coming... they would be prepared. 

Ben's steps hurried to catch up with his companion, reaching out to the Force and immersing himself in it slowly.  His senses expanded, spreading around them into the sand, the sky, the small scuttering of tiny insects under their feet.  Living beings sparked up in his awareness like firebugs, and he focused all his attention on those who would be waiting for them.  Drawing his lightsaber from his belt, he fell in at Rey's side as he overtook her.

Rey’s mind was open to the Force, open to Ben’s thoughts, and to the rising distress in the largest of the Wayhouses. They didn’t discuss strategy. She simply knew where they both wanted to go—she to the slave pens, and he to the flurry of First Order soldiers taking up defensive positions near the auction block. Silent agreement burned between them, a twin determination to do their part, and do it completely. He wouldn’t fail, and neither would she. Together, they would be the unstoppable fist that smashed this vile place.

His dark thoughts were drawing her in, and she let them, letting some of his viciousness seep into her bones as they peeled away to their individual tasks.

She vaulted onto a hydro-condenser, used it as a springboard to launch herself onto the roof of one of the smaller domes. It felt rickety under her boots, but the metal was pitted from sandstorms and gave just enough traction to allow for a few sprinting steps and a leap.

One building to the next, she leapt, using the Force to assist her jumps and steady her landings, to sense where the metal was weak. Shouts—no, screams—echoed to her across the sand. Ben had found his marks. Blaster fire tore through the hot air, and it took Rey a moment to realize that some of it was coming from nearby.

Ragtag humanoids staggered from doorways, their rough leather and steel plates emblazoned with a rusty sigil that sent a visceral stab of hatred through her. Vogori Kha Traders. She’d met them before—they’d sold people and objects to Ducain, some of which had made their way, fairly or otherwise, to Unkar Plutt. Those slaves became scavengers, and while many of them had been silent and subdued, there had been some who’d reacted to their treatment with an equal violence. She recalled the Sullustian boy who’d carved off slices of an old scavenger woman’s scalp, peeling it like a fruit until she told him where she’d found the wreckage of a speeder she’d recently gutted.

Rey had kept away from him until Unkar Plutt had hired him as a lackey. Then, encounters had been impossible to avoid. He’d stuck a vibroblade into her leg once, just to see what she’d do.

Knock him out with her staff. That’s what she’d done. And broken his knife hand. Unkar Plutt had nearly let her starve for that.

Rey’s final leap onto the largest dome didn’t carry her high enough. She scrabbled at the overlapping plates and caught one, banging both knees on impact. One handed, she hauled herself higher, wedged her staff into place, and pulled herself arm-over-arm until she was far enough up the curve to stand. There was a massive hole on the south side of the dome, which looked like it had been put there by a ship’s proton cannon.

Through it, she saw the slaves, and the ten rough Vogori Kha guarding them.

Each Vogori Kha trader had a child hauled back against them, tender necks cupped in rough hands, ready to snap. Ten blasters lifted to point at her.

Rey took in a deep breath, braced herself, and leapt in through the hole.


	10. 35-ish Porgs

Rey's anger was a constant presence in the back of Ben's mind, and it fueled him.  They were fighting as one, light and dark, feeding off of one another's power and fury.  

Ben had known the First Order stormtroopers were positioned to surround him, even as he swept into their trap with all the unrestrained power of a tidal wave.  The unstable lightsaber in his hands burned through the air, spinning a net around him in all directions as he spun, reflecting blaster shots and countering the weaker energy weapons they wielded as he moved into close quarters with the ones near the base of the ship.

His concentration fragmented into as many pieces as he needed to survive.  One to freeze blaster fire in the air behind him.  One to lift the dark uniformed man that charged his flank and throw him with crushing force against the ship’s hull, hearing and feeling the shattering of bone, the extinguishing of his life in the Force.  One to raise his own weapon to meet the crackling blade of an energy spear, the vibrations ringing through his hands and up his arms.  

The soldier engaging him was skilled enough in her own right, wielding her weapon with enough force and technique to require Ben's focus on the fight.  Sparks flew around them, the sand spraying up under their boots as they danced in the shade of the hulking ship's wing.

Spinning away momentarily Ben redirected one of the energy bolts he held suspended, sending it flying into the chest of a last stormtrooper attempting to sneak up while he was distracted.  Even in that moment, his skilled opponent swept in with a raking swing that caught in Ben's shirt and blazed a thin line of pain across his stomach as he danced backwards with a curse.

His anger rose with the pain, focusing his attention. It fed him, fed the Force within him, and with a snarling cry he lunged forward, battering her back with lightning fast strikes.  She was withdrawing before him now, entirely on the defensive as the force raged in him.

Driving her back against the ship's body Ben dropped one hand from his weapon and reached out, wrapping fingers around the long hilt of her own and ripping it from her hands. There was fear in her eyes now, fear, and an anger not unlike his own.  Holding her frozen with the Force, Ben took the moment of victory to cast his senses over the battlefield behind him, assuring himself that there were no other relevant survivors.  Distantly, he could feel Rey still fighting her own war.

Halfway down from the ceiling, Rey ignited her lightsaber. It sprang out with a snap-hiss and cast luminous blue light across the faces of the children. She landed in a fighting stance, dropped her staff to her foot, and stretched out her arm. She didn’t know how to do this particular force-move, but Ben did, and she stole the knowledge from his mind.

Dominate. Subjugate. Move.

It’s what he’d done to her in the forest, the day they’d met, when he’d frozen her in place, prowled around her like a demon deciding which soft part to strike at first. But this was different. Ten hands released ten slave children, who dropped to their knees and scrambled into the deepened shadows.

Ten was too many. In her mind, in Ben’s mind, that was clear. Their combined wills were too strong. They overwhelmed her, and she felt her mind shudder against them. She released her hold with a rough cry and kicked her staff back into her off hand. When the traders began to shoot, she was already whirling.

Ben followed her back to her battle for a few moments, enough to make certain that she had things under control.  It would not be an easy fight, but Rey would be able to handle it.  From the brief glimpse had stolen from her mind the slavers were large and sluggish, and it would be a good test of her abilities.  

Refocusing on his own prey, Ben prowled around his captive, eyes narrowed.  She wore the badges of decent rank, more than he had seen on any other survivors of the First Order. Her eyes followed him, wide with a mix of tumbling emotions that were easy to read from the surface of her thoughts.  Fear, confusion, betrayal... hope.

"S-supreme Leader..."  She had gathered her wits enough to speak, that was a start. Coming to a halt before her, Ben extinguished his lightsaber, though he kept it held tightly at his side. "Commander." He replied coldly. "This ship wouldn't have gotten far without at least a small fleet to support it.  Where are your troops gathered?"

Out of habit she opened her mouth to respond, then stopped. "You abandoned us." She spat, the fear fading into anger. "It's been you, hasn't it! You—"

Ben growled, tired of her accusations. Snapping out a hand he reached into her mind, rifling through her thoughts for the information he needed.  Her words were cut short by a gasping cry as he sorted through memory and emotion, discarding roughly what was irrelevant to him in his pursuit of the knowledge he sought.

There...  _a flicker of a binary star, twin planets on the distant outer rim. He was about to pull back when another flicker of an image caught his attention as she fought his intrusion. A beautiful world, violet skies, a ballroom...wealth funneling into the pockets of the desperate remnants of the First Order. A sponsor...._

That was all she knew. Releasing his grip on her mind Ben felt her shudder against his restraints, though her eyes were glassy and her skin damp with sweat. He needed nothing more from her. The flash of his lightsaber was swift, surgical, and he was turning back towards the sounds of Rey's distant fight before her body even hit the sand.

Rey couldn’t get an opening. A pair of Twilek women had her between them, dancing in and out of her guard as she struck with staff and lightsaber. One caught Rey’s staff with her spiked whip and the second Twilek cross-sliced her energy blades at Rey’s abdomen. Rey caught the second with her lightsaber, just as a blaster bolt streaked into her shoulder.

She gave a yell of pain and rage, giving her staff a Force-aided yank. As the whip-wielding Twilek staggered forward, Rey whipped the butt of her staff down onto the slack, dragging the other woman to the ground.

She continued the momentum, swinging her lightsaber in a tight arc that sliced through the woman’s forearms.

Rey blocked out the horrified shriek and shook her staff free of the whip, searching for the origin of the blaster fire. More traders had found shelter behind the life pods, which were child-sized and made Rey sick to look at.

The second Twilek woman gave an enraged battle cry and twirled in, her deep green lekku swinging in perfect symmetry with the crackling energy knives.

More blaster fire, and Rey had to deflect it with her lightsaber, spinning to catch blades and bolts between her two weapons. The traders didn’t seem to care whether they hit the deadly Twilek woman, and more than one bolt zapped off her steel armor.

Something small streaked across the open doorway, right into the path of Rey’s deflected blaster bolt.

“NO!” she shrieked.

She didn’t even think. She reached out, freezing the bolt before it could hit the wookie child. It held, cracking in the air.

For the second time this fight, she’d ripped something she needed from Ben’s head. Scavenged and uprooted the trick by the wires and jammed it in to fill her need. It seared her brain to do it, but Ben’s mind swatted aside her sliver of worry for him.

The wookie girl dove through the door, roaring in panic, and Rey let the bolt go.

She paid for the instant of distraction. The Twilek’s blade jammed into her arm, slicing it open to the bone.

Rey's howl of pain burned through Ben's brain.  Rage boiled inside him and he took the last few steps to the low building at a run, the Force building around him in a whirlwind. Throwing out a hand he ripped the locked door from its hinges, sending it spinning off across the sand as he leapt into the fracas.

He sliced through the creature nearest the door before he even had a chance to turn around.  Ben's focus was a white hot blade, fueled by shared pain and a fierce protectiveness. The Force bent to his will. It was his blade.

The Twilek battering at Rey's lightsaber was swept from her feet and thrown with shattering force to the side. She landed in a crumpled heap near the children who huddled along the wall, crying.

Ben's steps carried him across the floor to Rey's side, falling into familiar step against her back with his lightsaber raised menacingly. They were better together, they were the best the Force had to offer.

Blood sheeted down Rey’s arm, the iron and ozone scent of the room suddenly full and thick in he senses. Her staff was useless now, and she used the last of that arm’s strength to hurl it out, guiding it’s trajectory with the Force. It slammed two traders back into the wall, pinning them there.

Ben’s fury was a tidal wave, and she wasn’t shocked when it crashed through the back door, or when her sense of two lives snuffed out at once.

The Twilek was jerked backwards. She rocketed into the wall with a shocked scream, and Rey sensed those brain-tails split like overripe fruit, the woman’s chest collapsing in on her lungs.

She didn’t see him coming, she didn’t need to. He was with her already, a bracing torrent of anger coursing clear and freezing through the confusion of battle. Then he was at her back, and their bodies were in sync.

It was a frenzy. Short and brutal with the two of them protecting each other’s backs. Rey leapt to the top of the life-pods and raked her lightsaber through the traders. Some tried to run, clearly aware of their approaching deaths. Rey let them. They wouldn’t get far—Ben would see to that.

Then, all at once, there were no more traders. There was no more blaster fire, no more energy blades, and no more moans from the handless Twilek. She’d succumbed to stray blaster fire, or a friendly execution.

The fight was gone, and she could feel Ben withdrawing his anger, fighting to tuck it back into its steel cage.

She was on her knees, bent double over the life pod, the viewpane growing slippery with her blood. That’s when she saw what was inside.

Infants. Hundreds of them. Humans, all of them. Unnaturally still, in their liquid suspension tanks. This one with golden curls. That one, skin the color of the rich earth on Ach-To. None could be more than two sun-cycles. She watched as the life signal of a black-haired girl flickered from critical orange, then, inevitably to red.

A tiny life, flitting away. A hundred red sensors, staring back at her like eyes. Her blood pooled across the pane as she stared, struck in the dead grip of shock.

It was easier this time for Ben to push back the clawing darkness that always howled in frustration with nothing left to fight. The pain helped, as it always had.  It offered him an easier pathway to control, a channel along which to focus what he needed--in this situation, he needed to recover himself quickly, to be there for Rey.

His hands were shaking slightly as he clipped his lightsaber back onto his belt, she had enough other concerns to deal with this time without having to watch out for him.  Wrapping one arm across the shallow wound across his midsection, Ben felt the blood-damp fabric sticking to his skin.  He moved to her side, glancing down over her shoulder as he did so.  The faces that stared back at him were quiet, empty, peaceful.  They would never have to know how painful life could be.

Reaching out, Ben laid a hand on Rey's shoulder, carefully pulling her away.  "They don't need you."  He said quietly, turning her slightly to face the horrified faces that still lived, tears streaking their faces as they tried to press themselves into the walls to escape the bloodshed.  "They do.”


	11. A Storm of Porgs (82)

Rey took a shuddering breath, drawn from her horror by the terror flickering at the edge of her senses. Life, warm and desperate, shone beacons through the cold horror of death. Her lightsaber slipped from her fingers, and she made her way toward the children, drawing on the Force. She also drew on the grim control that had settled into Ben’s mind, and pulled it over her like a cloak.

Rey stopped two meters away from the shivering children and crouched. “Don’t be afraid,” she said. “We’re here to help you. I’m Rey. I’m with the Resistance.”

It was still easier to say that, than to say she was part of the new Republic. She made sense as a resistance hero—that didn’t need a title. She wasn’t sure what her title was in the Republic.

“Issa donta Jeedai,” said a young girl, whose dark hair and golden skin reminded Rey a bit of Rose. “Assa,” and she pointed to Ben, hand and voice trembling. “Don teya First Order mon ta lo.”

Rey swallowed. She wasn’t familiar with the language, but it she didn’t really need to be to understand what the girl was saying. Rey shook her head.

“He’s not First Order,” she said. “Not anymore.”

None of the children were looking at her. Wide-eyed, they stared behind her. Only then did she notice the scraping sound, like something heavy dragging across the sand. Ben was cleaning up the bodies.

 _Can you NOT do that right now?_  She sent, wondering how clearly she could transmit through their connection.  _They’re more afraid of you than a pile of dead traders._

Fingers tucked tightly into a dead trader’s boot straps, Ben paused in his dragging of the man and glanced at her in irritation.  With a sigh, he dropped the load unceremoniously to the earth and paced towards a small stack of supply crates along the opposite wall of the building.  It was clear the children wanted nothing to do with him, and the feeling was at least a little mutual.

He took a slow seat on the edge of one crate, hissing softly through his teeth as his wound protested the action. With half of his attention still focused on Rey--mostly to make sure she remained conscious-- Ben slowly pulled up the bottom hem of his shirt and examined the injury.  It was shallow and hardly life-threatening, but blood seeped sluggishly from the partly cauterized flesh and was staining into the dark blue of his shirt and pants.

Giving up on salvaging the torn fabric, Ben tugged the loose shirt off over his head and began to systematically shred it into strips.  It wasn't exactly far to the Falcon and a proper medical kit, but he wasn't leaving without Rey and he doubted she was going anywhere until she had reassured herself the children were alright.

He set aside a few ragged strips to use on her arm as soon as she would let him near enough, and set to work winding a basic and incredibly unsanitary bandage around his torso.

Several of the children understood common, and a few more spoke languages she at least sort of knew, so Rey fumbled along through conversation until the brightness of the children’s terror had faded to a low hum of anxiety. No few of them were still glancing back at Ben, whose presence buzzed with irritation at being stymied.

At last, a Chiss girl stepped forward, her tiny, blue face solemn despite the unnerving blood-red of her eyes. She pointed at Rey’s arm. “You require healing,” she said. “And we have not eaten in two cycles.”

Rey knew well what it was to have a two-day empty belly. She attempted to rise from her crouch, but the blood drained from her head. She gave a sharp tug on the Force, drawing strength to help her stand. A furry arm appeared around her waist, far more powerful than its size suggested. Rey caught at the shoulder of the Wookie girl.

The other children knotted together behind the Chiss girl, and Rey sensed their trust for the red-eyed child. How old was she? The Chiss were an offshoot of humanity, but their accelerated growth-rate meant that what appeared to Rey as a fully-grown adult could very well be eleven years old. This girl was the size of a five-year-old, but her mind felt older, calmer than the others.

“We have a ship,” she said. “There’s not much there for rations, but there must be some around this place.”

The Chiss girl nodded, then warbled something in a strange language, pointing at one of the dead men. Rey squinted at him, noting the white plastisteel node embedded in his arm. The sensor on it showed red.

Understanding hit her all at once—this man must have been the Vogori Kha’s leader. His vitals had been connected to the suspension pods’ life support systems. When he’d died, whenever that had been, it shut down the oxygen to the infants in their tanks, suffocating them. The Vogori Kha had never been a trusting bunch, and it was clear they hadn’t trusted the First Order.

Rey wobbled, a flood of panic overtaking her. Had she killed the trader? A blaster shot to the throat—had she deflected it? Was she responsible, in some horrible way, for the murder of hundreds?

Her knees gave, pain and guilt rushing through her. “I killed them,” she whispered. “His life was tethered to theirs. I didn’t know. I didn’t-“

Tiny blue hands on her face. “They would have given their lives to the First Order,” the Chiss girl said. Through the blur of tears, she saw the rest of the children shrinking back, felt the Wookie girl begin to tremble at her side, even as the Chiss girl’s red eyes flicked up. “Your dark Jeedai comes.”

Ben had had enough of hovering on the edge of the encounter, waiting impatiently for Rey to finish up whatever she felt she needed to do so that they could leave.  When Rey's legs gave out beneath her he was on his feet, moving swiftly across the sands as most of the children scattered back.  Crouching at her side he pulled her gently from the young Wookie's supportive grasp, arms sliding under her and lifting her carefully from the ground.  She was light in his arms, pale and shaking, and he cradled her against his body as he stood.  He avoided eye contact with the children around them, still unsure of how to handle them.  

"Rey, we need to go."  He spoke softly, only for her.  "You need rest and treatment, the Alliance will be here soon enough to clean up this mess."  Her blood was warm on his skin, and for a vengeful moment he wished he could kill the Twilek bitch a second time.  He almost lashed out with the Force as a small blue hand reached cautiously out to touch his side.  She shrank back as he glared at her, but mustered the aplomb to speak softly.

"The western pod has beds for the slavers... she can rest there."  

“We can’t leave them,” Rey said, kicking fruitlessly in an attempt to get him to put her down. “We can’t...” There was damp skin against her cheek—a bare shoulder, still warm and slick from the fight’s exertion. Why in all the stars in the universe had he taken off his shirt?

Bandages. The thought glimmered into her mind, but she chose to disregard it. Bandages were not what was important right now. Right now, he was half-naked in a slaver’s dome. In front of children. Children were seeing him without a shirt on. It should not have been the most pressing of her thoughts, but it filled her mind, relieving her of the weightier concerns.

One of the children chittered something, and the flickers of fear blossomed once again into bonfires.

“What did he say,” Rey said, kicking again for Ben to put her down. He sucked in a breath, and she noted the strips of dirty blue shirt around his waist, the expanding spots of blood where her jerking thigh had pulled open the injury.

She went still, and the Chiss girl translated, unable to quite keep the tremble from her voice. “He said...there will be a sandstorm here. Soon. It is the Vogori Kha’s way, to make a deal before a sandstorm. It covers their tracks.” She looked up not at Rey, but at Ben. “If you leave now, we’ll all die. And what would have been the point of saving us?”

Ben glared at her, frustrated.  He tightened his arms slightly around Rey to discourage her uncomfortable--though pitiful-- struggling.

"I didn't come here to save you."  He growled, wanting to walk away and convince himself he didn't care.  He felt Rey's slow rising anger before she even spoke, and he knew she would never forgive him.  Despite all that he had already done, this she could not let go. 

"But she did."   He looked down at Rey, her eyes flashing angrily at him in a pale face.  "What can we really do?"  He asked the blue child, though the words were as much for Rey as they were for him.  "We can't fit everyone on our ship."

“The western pod is the most secure,” the girl said. “There’s a storm-shield, but it’s broken.”

Rey’s good arm moved from its position between her side and Ben’s still-very-naked chest. He was still holding her like it was nothing, like he didn’t even need to plant his feet or really strain at all. It made her uncomfortably angry. “I can fix it,” she said. “I fixed a million storm-shields on Jakku.”

“It’s this way.” The Chiss girl motioned them toward the back door, stepping deliberately on top of the dead trader’s chest.

Reluctantly Ben followed her, a seed of grudging admiration growing for her determination.  Though Rey had stopped squirming in his arms, he still felt her irritation bristling in his direction.  What was it now?  He hadn't ignored her pleas and taken her straight off this rock, as much as he wished to.  What more did she want?

The small Chiss child led them towards the western part of the complex, the lightly blowing sand already beginning to mound around several of the stormtroopers' bodies.  Leading them around the edge of the long, low building, the machines that powered the buildings shields and power came into view. They were ancient, rusted, and patched together more times than he could count.

Carefully lowering Rey to the sand beside the device, Ben crouched at her side and pulled the spare bandages he had torn from where he had looped them into his belt.  He pinned her with a glare when she tried to pull away.

"I'm letting you do this."  He glowered at her, fingers wrapping about her upper arm and pulling her arm across his knees.  "But I'll be damned if I let you do it while bleeding all over the place."  Gentle, but firm, he refused to let her go.

“What I do isn’t up to you,” she snapped, but she didn’t fight the medical intervention, medieval though it was. Her arm felt numb, the fingertips going slightly gray, and the pain was incredible. She gritted her teeth and tried to distract herself with the rust-bucket in need of its own medical treatment.

“I need tools,” she said. “And grounding tape, and probably a couple of beveled connectors. I think the holo table has the right-OW!” She jerked her arm reflexively, but Ben’s grip barely moved. He glared at her with a look that said, ‘hold still or I will cauterize this with my lightsaber and enjoy it.’

She might have been projecting that thought onto him, but it seemed right. A twitch below the collarbone—his muscles moving as he started in wrapping her arm again.

She let out a growl of frustration. “Go! Go get the tools. And for the love of everything, get a shirt!”

Ben pulled it tight and tucked the edge of the bandage under the wrapping a bit more roughly than was strictly necessary, glaring at her.  Getting to his feet, he looked sharply at the Chiss girl.  "Watch her."  He ordered and turned away.  

"A good sunburn would teach you to wear clothes!" Rey yelled spitefully after him as he broke into a slow run.

The Falcon wasn't far from the small cluster of buildings, but it wasn't exactly close either.  Ben kept up a steady pace the whole distance, unwilling to leave Rey for too long in her condition.  With each stride pain flickered out from his abdomen, the wound stretching and fresh blood soaking through the fabric.  The pain he could handle, it quickened his steps and kept him fresh when tiredness and the dragging heat of the air numbed his limbs.  

The wind was picking up as he reached the Falcon, though the storm was still some ways off.  Kicking porgs out of his path, he grabbed for one of the deep packs hanging up in the cargo bay, hauling it with him as he tore through the ship looking for the parts that Rey needed.

"Porgs! Clothes!"  He yelled up at the nest in his gun well as he ran past the opening, sending a tendril of Force command into their simple brains.  

The pack was already getting heavy, and he filled the rest of the space with what rations he could drag quickly from cabinets and two fresh medkits. He could still feel the faint echoes of Rey's distress in the distance, pushing him to move even faster.

As he was closing up the pack the scampering of a dozen little feet approached, and when he looked up a herd of porgs were tumbling into the room, little mouths clamped around a random assortment of clothing and other useless and totally unhelpful items they had decided needed to be brought for him.

He disregarded scraps of half translated transmissions, balls of Wookie down, and a single spoon, then tugged a dark shirt on over his damp bandages, not caring to take the time to deal with his own wounds just yet. Rey was the priority.  He paused as three porgs working together spat the frustratingly familiar green vest at his feet and looked up at him helpfully.  Rey  _would_  need to change....  He shoved it into the pack.

Ben was three steps down the ramp when his courage failed him, and with a frustrated curse he snatched the offending article back out of the bag and threw it back into the ship.

" _Porgs_! Put it back."  He ordered, reinforcing the words once again with his mind as he turned his steps back towards the buildings in the distance.

Rey was hip-deep in the storm shield generator when Ben returned. The wind had picked up—rattling the scales of corrugated steel along the rooftops behind her, and setting the pods into a chorus of hollow whistles and moans. The salt-corroded chip she needed was underneath. She’d already started twisting at the screws.

She didn’t realize he was back until a large pair of hands closed around her calves and slid her neatly out from beneath the generator.

“Hey!” she squawked, but he didn’t seem concerned with her indignant shaking off of his hands.

“Blue kid,” he said, and tossed the Chiss girl a pair of pliers. “Get under there. She’ll tell you what to do.”

“What—no! There’s no time for that!” Rey snapped. Ben was digging out the medical supplies. When she turned toward the generator, however, his hands reappeared beneath her knees and jerked her closer to him. He withdrew a sharp blade and sliced off the bandage on her arm.

It hurt when he peeled it off. There was already grit and sand in the wound, and the antiseptic gel hissed and burned.

“Pry off the...the chip—it’s corroded and I already started on the screws. The—aghh!—there should be an obvious melted wire on the-“

“I have it,” the Chiss girl said. Tiny grunts and metallic squeaks came from the generator. Rey swayed, and as the gel sublimated into curling tendrils in the air, fresh blood streamed down her arm. It looked thin...strangely...pink. Her head throbbed.

Ben’s shirt was bloody at the waist. That was two he’d ruined in a single day, the idiot. He didn’t have enough extra clothing to go around bleeding on his shirts with abandon.

She watched him, pale skin and dark hair whipping into his eyes. The wind...the storm was picking up. Veils of starling-like shadow crossed the ground where the sand ribboned up on a sharp shear of wind.

Liquid squirted into the wound and seized, gluing her flesh together, and was followed by a bacta patch and gauze wrap. The instant Ben was done, Rey fell heavily onto her back and dug in her boots, pushing herself under.

She asked for things, which somehow made it to the Chiss girl’s hands and then into Rey’s. She heard Ben’s voice only once—commanding the children to get inside. The Chiss girl stayed, though she had tucked herself close to Rey’s side, a whimper escaping her as the brightness beyond the generator dimmed.

The storm was blotting out the sun. The village of pods howled like wounded creatures, and beneath that was the hiss and groan of a churning sandstorm, approaching like a dreadnaught.

“Go,” Rey said to the Chiss girl. “Get inside and get ready to hit he shield the second I tell you.”

The girl looked at her strangely, her blood red eyes uncertain. Rey realized she was slurring. “Go,” she repeated, and returned shaking hands to the wires.

A spark, and the generator whined, then sputtered.

“No, no, no, no!” Rey growled, slapping the underside of the panels. A loose connection somewhere—where!? There, shuddering as fingers of wind and sand clawed beneath the generator. She tightened the connection, ripped a length of insulation tape off with her teeth, and secured it into place.

The generator roared. Then she was sliding—being dragged—from beneath the generator. Ben didn’t wait for her to stand. He scooped her around the waist, already running, and hurled her ahead of him toward the door. She slammed through it, and an instant later, he followed.

The little Wookie girl slammed the door against the wind, just as the Chiss girl punched the shield button, and a crackling bubble snapped to life around them. Rey stared up at it through a sand-spitting crack in the ceiling, and laughed.

They were safe. The children, and Ben, and Rey. They were all safe. The last thing she remembered was curling onto her side on the sandy floor, overcome by hysterical sobs of laughter, before she passed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PORG LORD SOLO AND GREASE JAWA! THEY FIGHT CRIME!


	12. Schrodinger’s Porgs

Far more accustomed to giving orders to soldiers than to children, Ben could feel the fear rolling off of them as he tried to get them organized, frustration building as the children slinked along the walls, heading for rooms as far from him as they could get. The common room of the wayhome was wide and cluttered, tattered chairs scattered around a central pod that held a holo table with cards strewn across its dirty surface.

Ben's lip curled with disgust. The traders and slavers had not been neat people. The doors the children had disappeared through led off of the central room, presumably to bunks and to whatever form of kitchen and facilities the filthy building had to offer.   

Kneeling at Rey's side, Ben lifted her easily back into his arms, where her weight was becoming a familiar thing. Her head fell against his shoulder, her breathing shallow and uneven. The Chiss girl was the only one who had not slid away, though she was watching him with suspicious eyes from what she presumably considered a safe distance.

She pointed with her chin towards a door to the right, gaze tracking him like a wounded animal. "She can rest in there."

Ben kicked the door open and carried Rey to the small bed along one wall, laying her down carefully. Reaching a hand toward the room behind him, he force-pulled the pack to his side and rummaged through it for the second med kit. Though the more serious of her injuries was treated, at least for the moment, infection might creep in through her other wounds.

He sliced off the sleeve of her shirt, pulling back the rough fabric to expose the blaster burn on her shoulder. Knowing Rey, this was the only chance that he would get to satisfactorily treat her before she woke and became difficult again.

As he laid the bacta patch down over her skin and smoothed it into place, she stirred slightly, brows drawing together in distress.  Perhaps some dream or a distant acknowledgment of pain, he couldn't tell which.  For the moment, her mind was closed to him. 

Without thinking, Ben brushed a strand of sweat-damp hair from her face, tucking it back behind her ear.  Her skin was clammy and pale, and his fingers lingered on her face, wishing he knew how to soothe away whatever demons haunted her. The rebellious fire that always burned in her was gone, leaving her seeming smaller and more delicate than he had ever seen. His hand suddenly seemed too large in comparison, clumsy and unsure.  

Ben quickly pulled away, settling down more permanently on the floor beside the bed. Leaning back against it he finally took the time to take a closer look at his own wound.  The shirt he had thrown on was stained with drying blood. He grimaced, knowing he would hear about it later, when Rey was feeling more herself. Pulling it off and tossing it aside, he carefully cut away the makeshift bandages, peeling them back where blood had crusted against the edges of the wound. Fresh pain spiked through his senses, and he didn't resist it, letting it distract him from his thoughts of Rey. 

"I found some clothes..."  A timid voice broke his concentration as he was finishing up, and as he jerked his eyes up.

The Chiss girl drew back to halfway hid behind the door frame. Cautiously she held out her discovery, tossing it across the floor towards him as though he were a wild animal she was trying to tame. Before he could respond, she disappeared as silently as she had come.

The clothes that she had found were drab and sand-colored, shapeless tunic and pants with a wide sash that had no doubt belonged to one of the slavers. Plain, simple, and he had to admit reluctantly, probably big enough to fit him.

For the moment, he set them aside and settled in with arms draped across his knees to wait for Rey to wake.

_The silhouettes of the other scavengers faded as the sandstorm’s winds picked up, and their adult legs carried them more quickly toward Nima outpost. “Stop!” Rey called, and got a mouthful of sand for it. “Wait, please!”_

_But the figures were shrinking, the air was going opaque with sand, and she knew they wouldn’t hear her. Even if they did, part of her knew they didn’t care. They would leave her, and take the portions for the shiny pieces of circuitry she’d pulled from that half-buried speeder. Her heart shuddered, and each beat sent pain and fear and aching loneliness through her arteries._

_The scavengers wouldn’t stop. She’d been abandoned like the very junk they stripped and scavenged, and out here, she had no friends. No one to take care of her._

_The wind howled like a voice, and she staggered with it, following the ghosts of people whose faces she could no longer remember. A mother, with dark hair and soothing voice. A father, with whipcord arms and a lash of a smile. Daylight work-songs, while they picked over imperial machines like vultures—she liked those moments best. Far better than the clammy, stinking people they became at night, when they refused rations in favor of drink. When they let their friends pick Rey up and force bottles of burning liquid to her lips, laughing when she spat the liquid out. Laughing harder when she hid, crying, from their big, violent legs._

Come back! _she screamed, her tiny arm in Unkar Plutt’s big hand._ No! Come back!

_They’d sold her. They debated selling her to Ducain, but he’d just turn around and sell her again, probably offworld, and somewhere in their twisted logic, that was a waste. So they sold her to Plutt, and told her to be good and find him lots of shiny things, and she’d be safe._

_She wasn’t safe now. Not from this storm. Not until her knees encountered the hulking metal box of...a ship? No, that wasn’t it. An imperial walker! Desperate, clinging to the panels as the wind ripped her scarf back from her lips, she felt her way to the machine’s belly, pried open the corroded door and slipped inside._

_Darkness, and no working circuits. Rey was alone, except for the howling wind outside._

_The scene morphed to other sandstorms, other darknesses. Nima outpost, a year later, when she’d watched her own blood bead up on the sand, then roll away on the wind. The S’kal brothers had smashed her face, her hands, kicked her ribs and hips, and taken the little clear packets of food. They’d dragged her back between dunes and dropped her, cackling about how the sand would swallow her up. She’d crawled, whimpering, back to the outpost, and tucked herself in the happabore stalls._

_Violence and death howled after her, chasing her through a landscape of screams and agonizing emptiness. Her heart felt wrung out, desolate and desperate for someone to understand her, to know her. Someone who loved her enough to stay._

_The storm slammed through her, an excruciating howl, blowing back the dark enough to show her the faces of a hundred dead infants, staring through the blood-streaked glass. The Chiss girl screamed over the howl of the wind, her red eyes streaming tears, “Come back!”_

Rey sat bolt upright with a shuddering gasp, instinctively drawing down tight on the one bright point of energy inside her.

Ben had fallen into a doze, head tilting forward onto his crossed arms. He was neither quite dreaming nor quite awake, but the howling of the sandstorm outside mixed with his drifting thoughts like the voice of some great monster. Moments before Rey woke her mind lashed out, breaking through the walls she had raised unconsciously and spilling over into his in a torrent of loneliness and despair. Abandonment, betrayal, isolation-- for a confused moment Ben couldn't tell what parts were hers and which were his, but by the time she jolted awake he had uncurled from his position near her bed and was already pulling her into his arms.

Her face was streaked with tears and sweat, damp against his neck as he held the back of her neck in one hand, fingers wound tightly into her hair.  

"You're not alone."  He spoke softly, leaning his cheek into her hair.   _You're not nothing to me..._

Rey felt heavy with despair, every limb like a weight, and she didn’t have the strength to hold it all together. Hands found her, and with a desperate sob, she spilled off the pallet into Ben’s arms. His body met hers, real and solid, without the strange lightness of Visitation. He surrounded her, big arms and broad chest and long legs forming a cradle for her shaking weight.

For once, she didn’t care that there was skin beneath her hands. Hot and smooth, slick with her tears as she pressed her face into his neck, feeling his voice more than hearing it.

“Don’t leave,” she whispered. “I’m sorry, it’s the...” Her breath hitched, stomach jumping in that uncontrollable way of true distress. She didn’t finish her sentence. He knew. His mind stroked hers, soothing as the deep voice that vibrated under her cheek, and the massive hands cradling her close.

It was the storm. It was her past. It was her parents and her loneliness and the ache inside her that nothing ever seemed to fill completely.

Her injured arm hung uselessly down against his hip, but she slid her good one around his freshly-bandaged waist. Odd, he was almost as wide at the waist as he was at the chest, but so much thinner, like he’d whittled away everything he could spare. The groove of his lower back fit her arm well. She wished the other weren’t injured, so she could feel the size of him in both arms and let his warm mass envelop and comfort her.

Ben let her pain wash over him, the same pain that he had always felt inside of her, had even used as a weapon against her when it served his purposes.  Now he wanted nothing more than to be able to take it away.  "I'm not leaving you, Rey."  He whispered into her hair, feeling her tremble under his hands.  It was easy to forget how small she was, her personality always filling a room.  But now he engulfed her, pulled her in and it seemed as though she could disappear into his arms.  One hand stroked down her back, soothing her as she shivered.  The air was hot and heavy with the pressure of the storm outside, but Rey felt so cold.

There was really nothing left to say between them, nothing that she did not already know, so Ben just closed his eyes and rocked her slowly as she cried.

Rey wasn’t sure when she stopped crying. Her heart felt sandblasted, like the sandstorm still rattling outside had blown through her insides already, leaving timber bare and scoured to emptiness. They were breathing in unison, and though Rey had gone slack and heavy in his arms, Ben still touched her, fingers cupping her neck, thumb making gentle tracks along the back of her ear. The other hand pressed warn into her back, occasionally making a foray up to her shoulders or down to her hip, when he needed to shift her weight.

She turned her face into his chest, pressing close enough to block out the light. She hadn’t wanted this, or, more accurately, she hadn’t known this was what she wanted. Her numb mind examined the rubble of her personal defenses, crushed beneath a deeper need. She found she didn’t feel anything about them. Strange, she knew she should have. Those shields had been there for a good reason.

But a reason that didn’t matter right now. Exhausted, she pressed softly into Ben’s mind with an unspoken suggestion, and somehow, they managed to clamber into bed without letting each other go.

Rey curled against him, filling up her arms with him, and when his arms surrounded her, she dropped into an exhausted, trusting sleep.


	13. 57.5 Porgs

It was the giggling that woke him, that and the chattering whispers. The wind still howled around the building, no less intense than it had been the night before...had it been night? He was losing track of time in the never-ending twilight of the sandstorm. But the giggling. That was a new sound.

Slowly, Ben cracked his eyes open, looking past the haze of Rey's hair in his face to the children clustered around the doorframe, peeking in with wide eyes. He glared at them, lifting one hand from Rey's back, and twitched his fingers. The door slammed in their faces. Shrieks and the scampering retreat of little feet echoed beyond.

One of his arms was numb, strangely disconnected from his body where Rey was laying on it, and as he slowly processed where he was he wondered just how long they had slept. Spitting a stray lock of light brown hair out of his mouth, he was about to shake her gently awake when she stirred in her sleep with a wordless mumble and snuggled closer against him.

Ben froze, suddenly taking stock of just how tangled up they had become as they slept. Her hands tucked between them, fingers curled against his chest—she was real, solid, and smelled of oil and sand and blood. At a loss for how to proceed, Ben tried to stay as still as possible, becoming aware of every awkward angle of their position, the aches and cramps that were forming in his muscles now that he was afraid to move.

There was a slight tension in the connection to Ben’s presence. Rey wasn’t sure why. The groggy darkness of her mind was warm and comfortable, and it felt like something hard and sharp inside her had been roughly broken up and washed away, processed in the healing oblivion of sleep.

In her mind, though, Ben’s shoulders were tight, and there was a low-grade sizzle of stress, like whatever it was that bothered him was more immediate, and vexing, but not dangerous.

 _What_...? She sent her mind brushing again his, hoping he would just say, “It’s nothing. Go back to sleep.”

There was something oddly comfortable about the way she brushed up against his mind now, like dragging her knuckles along the back of someone else’s, and knowing they would take your hand.

She was slipping out of sleep and Ben wasn't sure where he wanted to be when she did.  It was so much easier to slip away when they were just Visiting, physical proximity added so many... complications. 

He petted her hair softly, trying to soothe her back to sleep.  He was certain she could still use the rest, and he could use the chance to untangle himself and slip away.  

Rey felt the brush of his mind and hand at the same time, and groggily accepted the reassurances. She stretched, the movements oddly restricted by something heavy and warm tangled in against her. It felt good to stretch like that, and she settled more comfortably, aware of the body against her own, yet not questioning its presence. Of course it was there. Why wouldn’t it be?

It wasn’t until later that her sluggish mind lifted back from sleep with an answer, only to find that she was alone in the little pallet, and Ben was gone.

Rey took stock of herself, of the patch-job Ben had done on her arm and shoulder. It was serviceable and neatly done, but her arm hurt like there was an old bruise going down to the bone. This kind of injury would have killed her on Jakku, or cost her the secret of a big, shiny scavenge to pay for the help. She rubbed her face and found her eyes tender and swollen from crying. She ran a hand into her hair and down her neck without really knowing why, wishing it felt as comforting as when...

She jerked her hand away and looked at it like it was something foreign. A crust of dried blood clung like beneath her fingernails like rust, and the long, thin fingers looked strange in the dim, shuddering light. Had she really cried in Ben Solo’s arms? Had she let him hold her, and not even cared that there was only skin beneath her these hands? Had she truly encouraged him to lift them into bed and tangle himself up in her, hands and body soothing her into sleep? He was Kylo Ren, or he had been. She’d watched him kill Han Solo, and Snoke.

She’d also seen inside him, to every disappointment and betrayal and abuse. She’d seen the pride, yes, but also the deep well of caring that made it so hard to hold himself to either the cold of darkness or the burn of the light.

She swallowed, pushing Ben from her mind, and found the clean tunic and half-jacket someone had found for her. She dressed carefully and braced herself for the awkwardness of encountering Ben.

As Rey slept, Ben had prowled around the building in which they were trapped restlessly, taking stock.  The children had clearly already been through most of the slavers belongings, raiding them for food and supplies.  Finding a room the children had not yet claimed Ben took it for his own, moving the pack he had brought and the clothes that the Chiss girl had given him into the small space with him.  

The clothes did fit well enough, though the rough style and dull colors didn't suit Ben's tastes at all.  At least they moved well enough when he stretched in them.  Running rough fingers through his own hair, he tried to shake out as much sand as he could, grimacing at the tangles that caught his hands.  Eventually frustrated with his uncooperative curls, he cut a length of cord off the pack, tied his hair up in a short tail at the nape of his neck, and settled down in the common room to try and clean grit out of the delicate interior of his lightsaber.

Entering the common room, at first all Rey saw was the children sitting in their little knots, chewing on rations or picking over their scavenged treasures. Until she confirmed the Chiss girl’s vibrant blue skin and red eyes, she didn’t notice the figure hunched beside her on the dirty sofa, fiddling with his lightsaber.

Rey barely recognized him. Maybe it was because he was wearing brown and off-white, or maybe it was because his black curls were drawn back into a queue, but he didn’t look like himself. That, at least, seemed to reassure the children that he wasn’t going to kill them.

Of course, that also could have been because of the ears. It was hard to be intimidating when your ears made it look like you were a skysail preparing to launch.

She hissed out a chuckle before she could stop herself.

Rey was always enough of a presence in his senses that Ben was absently aware when she entered the common area.  Distress was no longer coming off her in palpable waves, so he didn't bother turning away from his work until the flicker of amusement quickly aborted passed down their connection.

He looked up sharply as she covered her mouth guiltily, eyes wide and still crinkled at the edges with one of her characteristically wide grins.  Ben suddenly felt like a child again, embarrassed, and his mood darkened. Glaring at her, he uncoiled quickly from the couch, hand coming up to tug the cord from his hair defensively as he made to bolt back to his recently acquired quarters.  He knew that look.

“Ben,” she said, immediately feeling a little bad, but unable to stop grinning in amusement. She cut him off, surprised at how lightheaded just the few steps across the room made her. She caught his forearm and pulled it down. “Stop, stop, stop,” the words were half laugh. “I’m sorry,” and she was, for upsetting him. But not for seeing the dark lord Kylo Ren’s enormous, goofy ears.

She took the band from his hands. “Don’t take it down,” she said. “It’s helping. They—I don’t think you’re as scary.” She was struggling not to laugh, and there was a strange fizzle of delight coursing through her at the tempestuous scowl on his face.

He grunted at her, but let her pull his hand away.  She went on tiptoe to reach up around him and twist the cord back into his hair, and he found himself leaning down slightly to let her. Her amusement had a warm delight in it that soothed the insult he tried to cling to, unsuccessfully.

“There,” Rey said, steadying herself on his shoulders as she lowered back down, tilting her head as she regarded the new look. “Hello, Ben Solo.”

***

The next few days passed at a crawl, the hours seeming endless as Ben's restlessness increased. The building seemed smaller as the time passed, the endless storm raging outside.  It was the kind of storm that flayed skin from bone and stripped the surface of the planet of life.

The constant howling of the wind became background noise, but as the children relaxed and Rey recovered, Ben felt his nerves beginning to wear. He felt trapped, energy building with no outlet.  His mood darkened, and though the children were becoming more accustomed to his presence, he also snapped at them more often than Rey liked.

The Wookie child was still the most uncomfortable around him, hovering at the edges of a room when he entered, her constant high strung trembling reminding him of the small, overbred pets that Core planet socialites carried about in their handbags.

Nearly a week of the planet's time had passed when one of the children approached Rey, settling in beside her with the bouncing energy of youth.

"Miss Jeedai?" The girl's voice was high and nervous. “Food is becoming...nothing."

Coming up as well, the Chiss girl who had become their spokesperson nodded.  "Yes, we are running out of food."  She gave Rey a worried look. "Your friend... he heard us talking and now he is gone."

“Gone?” Rey repeated. She whipped her head around, as if he might appear from behind one of the rattling walls. Dread sank into the pit of her stomach. She pointed at the door. “What, out there!?”

The Chiss girl nodded. “I am sorry, Miss Jeedai. Your Ben will not be returning. He is lost.”

Rey sighed, and put her hands to her forehead. There were rations on the Falcon. Enough, probably, to last them a few more days. And if he could get to that First Order ship, there might be more in there. How long was this storm meant to last? Telemetry scans had shown it spanning half the planet, at least a ten-day storm. How long had it been already? Six, seven days?

She gave a growl of disgust. “He won’t die,” she gritted. “He’d better not.”

Closing her eyes, she focused on the point of his presence in the distance, focused on drawing herself to it, pulling herself closer and closer. Then she felt the bridge shudder, hurtling her along until she was standing next to him, leaning into the wind.

He was in a capsule of air, teeth gritted at the effort of holding back all that sand and wind.

“What the hell are you doing?” She shouted. “Ben!” She grabbed his wrist, pushing some of her strength toward him.

She was a passenger at his side in the storm, and he leaned on her strength though he was careful not to accept too much from her. She was still weakened, and if he was honest, the danger and difficulty of his struggle through the storm was a welcome relief. 

"I think I'm taking any excuse I can to get out of that fucking tomb." he hissed through gritted teeth, knowing she could hear him even as the howling wind swept away his words. “And don’t tell me if you weren’t still healing you wouldn't have tried the same thing."

The storm raged against the force shield he held in place, and Ben wiped sweat and rough grit from his eyes. The falcon couldn't be too much further. He reached out with the force to find it, focusing on its familiar lines and the flickering sparks of porg life within its sheltering walls. 

“You could have said-” she cut herself off with a frustrated sigh. “Fine, just be careful. And if the antenna can get any reception through the storm, I want to know how far out aid is.”

She kept with him until she saw the Falcon’s silhouette through the brown veils. With a last squeeze of Ben’s wrist, she snapped back into herself in the structure.

The Chiss girl, who called herself Ari’li, peered curiously at Rey. “Your Ben is...alive?” She sounded impressed.

Rey nodded. “Dark Jedi, remember? He’s using the Force to get through the storm to get rations off the ship.” She shuddered. There was too much history in her heart to stand the idea of walking out in that storm. Though Ben had been right—if they’d gotten desperate enough, she would have done it.

Maybe she wouldn’t have treated it like quite the holiday Ben seemed to find it, but she would have eventually forced her way through those winds. Ari’li tilted her head and peered at Rey closer. “Your bond is strong. Why do you sleep apart?”

Rey jerked in surprise. “Why...what!?”

The girl’s dark blue lips parted in an amused grin, and she looked oddly mature, oddly indulgent as she touched Rey’s cheek. “Your flesh is so strange—you turn pink. I am curious why you sleep apart. You did not the first night. Are you not mates?”

“What— _NO_!” Rey said, horrified that anyone would ask that, especially a child. But the thread of giggles around the room said they’d all been wondering, and they didn’t believe her. “We are not mates. We-“ she struggled to find a word to describe what they were. “We...work together.”

Ari’li laughed, tilting her head back so her dirty black curls caught the light. “Yes, Jeedai Rey. But he is still your Ben. I do hope the sand does not take him from you.”

Sand swirled into the ship with Ben, and the cargo door shuddered as it whined closed against the wind.  Porgs scattered underfoot, squalling almost as loudly as the storm outside as they greeted him, then fled screaming as he raised a threatening hand.  Letting his hand fall, Ben resisted the temptation to drop where he stood, the force draining out of him and leaving him exhausted.  Half the desert was riding in his clothes with him, grains irritating his skin and weighing him down.  

Refusing to stop just yet, Ben stamped his way through the cargo bay, shaking as much sand as possible out of his shirt and jacket and heading for the living area of the ship.  There he finally allowed himself to stop, sinking down into the couch along the holo table with a long sigh.  Exhaustion burned behind his eyes, and those muscles he could still feel ached with strain.  The span of distance back to the hovel seemed longer and longer in his memory, and for the moment the relative silence of the Falcon was a relief.  The storm was muted here, though the wind shook the ship occasionally as it gusted. 

He let himself doze for a few moments, waking to the curious mewling squeak of a small porg who had hopped up onto the seat beside him.  It regarded him with head cocked quizzically, trying to determine if he were the same Ben under all the dirt and sand. 

Groaning, Ben levered himself to his feet and began to pack up as many rations as he could carry.  As a last thought he scooped up the startled porg and stuffed it into the bag as well, drawing the bag closed over it's curious face.  Perhaps it would keep the children from pestering them quite as much if they had something to distract them.  Bracing himself for the long return trip, Ben reached out to take hold of the force... and it slipped from his tired fingers.  

Shocked, he stood for a moment, staring down at his shaking hand as though it had betrayed him. No... he would not lose a battle to a damned sandstorm!  He considered staying for a night in the safety of the Falcon, but discarded the thought just as quickly.  He would not leave Rey alone out there on this planet to worry about him.  Not this planet of all places, where her darkest memories haunted her.  Turning, he headed for the medical cabinet and dug through their less-used supplies, finally finding what he was looking for at the back of the container.  A small stimulant pack designed for emergencies.  Taking a deep breath, Ben pressed it to his wrist and depressed the release.

Rey poked at the third evaporation unit in the common area’s wall, trying to decide if it was worth taking it apart to optimize the use of the other two. This one was old, only producing a trickle of water. She could try to fix it, but failure would come at the cost of the unit altogether. It seemed safer to harvest the best parts and help the other two units work faster.

She’d just asked Ari’li for a harris wrench when she sensed him, drawing closer through the storm.

“Sarissa,” she called to the Wookie girl. “The shields! Go drop the shields.” She shoved the harris wrench back into a startled Ari’li’s hands and darted for the door, wrenching it open. The children staggered back with cries of fear, and Rey slammed to a halt in the doorway, panicked at the sight of blasting sand, roaring across the shield less than an arm’s length away.

Her heart juddered in her chest, and she flung out her feelings for Ben, latching onto his presence in the Force. He was exhausted, determined. Vibrating with some strange kind of energy.

Hurry, she thought at him, pushing strength toward him. She felt him near, felt him only a few long, heavy strides away, though the brownout was too thick.

“Sarissa, NOW!” she cried, and plunged her hand into the howling sand. The Force latched onto Ben, and she hauled on his body, reeling him in with all her might.

Stumbling forward into the still air of the building, Ben's ears rang with the sudden silence.  The Force still simmered within him, but it felt strange, unstable, like it mirrored the fractured power of his lightsaber.  His heart hammered in his ears and he fought the strange surges of power in his body, finding it hard to let go.  It was clinging to him like static, and when he finally closed off the channel of power he found that he was on his hands and knees, shaking with the effort.  Sweat soaked his skin, and his breath was short and ragged.  Rey was saying something...  but her words were blurred and distant.  Exhaustion and adrenaline warred in his limbs, making him numb. 

Somehow he managed to shrug out of the pack that he wore, and as it hit the floor it squawked and wiggled with the efforts of the traumatized porg inside.    
   
He would have reached out to Rey for support, for strength, but the Force was once again beyond his reach and she seemed infinitely far away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the opening of this chapter, Ben has been what Sathya and I refer to as “catted”. This is what happens when you find yourself comfortable until the moment an adorable cat comes and chooses you as its resting place. Purring, it is too adorable and sacred to move. At this point, one becomes aware of every ache and weird itch in one’s body, and suddenly needs to pee.


	14. 0.5 Porgs

Rey shuffled the bag off to the children and dropped to her knees in front of Ben. She took his shoulders, felt the weird shuddering of his body. Something about him was...wrong. Ragged. Exhaustion and energy spinning inside him in a confusing cocktail that didn’t feel natural.

“Ben? Ben!” She said, tapping his arm. “What’s wrong?”

He didn’t respond, but she felt him slipping, felt his mind’s ability to bend the Force trickling away. Panic rising, Rey wiped at the dark brown dust clinging to his sweat-drenched face. “What’s happened—what did you do?” she asked, a burning hunch in her gut. His head slumped forward, and he was heavy, capsizing toward her. She tried to catch him with her good arm, but he was too heavy, and his weight dragged her down. “No, no, no, no—agh! Ben!”

He slumped, half on top of her, and Rey shoved her boot against his leg and pushed, trying to roll him off. “What have you done you idiot,” she growled, dipping into his unshielded mind.

She saw his exhaustion, saw the moment of indecision. She felt his protest growing in his mind as she watched him injecting himself with epinephrine. He shouldn’t have done it! But his mind was rebelling—he hadn’t wanted to, but her face appeared in his mind, her fear of the sandstorm and the demons she’d faced nearly every night. She saw herself in his arms, from his perspective, her tearstained face at last relaxed in sleep. He refused to leave her, no matter how tired he’d been. The protective instinct had driven him to idiocy.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” she said, struggling between the desire to hug him, and the equally strong desire to punch him as hard as she could in his stupid shoulder. “It’s designed for when you’re about to die, not when you need an energy boost!”

She motioned Sarissa forward. “Help me move him!”

The Wookie girl seemed reluctant, but convinced by Rey’s desperation and Ben’s semi-consciousness. Together, they peeled Ben off the floor and toppled him onto the couch, which was far too small for his massive frame. Ari’li stepped up curiously and tilted his boot, pouring out a wealth of sand.

“You were right,” the girl said. “Your Ben returned to you.”

“And bring with food!” another child said.

“And this!” Said a human boy, thrusting out cupped hands, in which nestled the downy form of a porg chick.

“Is food!” said the first child.

“Is not food!” The boy said.

The porg chick trilled happily as the children began to chase each other around, arguing whether it was meant to be part of the dinner ration.

Sarissa gave an inquisitive moan, and Rey nodded. “That’s probably a good idea,” she said. A moment later, the young Wookie brought a shallow dish of water and several pieces of cloth. She didn’t exactly help as Rey and Ari’li washed Ben’s face and hands and peeled off his sandy boots, but she fetched more water and even returned with a fresh shirt and a second inquisitive moan.

Rey contemplated the shirt. “I don’t know about that,” she said, peering dubiously down at Ben’s shirt and jacket. They were both crusted from sand and sweat, but most things in this place were. She placed a hand on Ben’s chest, feeling the still-erratic beat of his heart. “This will pass out of his system in an hour or so. I think we should wait.” She lifted her injured arm. “I’m not a great helper right now, and he’s surprisingly heavy.”

Ari’li organized the other children and stored the rations, then brought a portion each to Ben and Rey as the others began a game of “lure the porg”, the prize of which she could only imagine involved either new ownership of the porg chick, or permission to eat it for dessert.

Rey sat in front of the sofa at Ben’s hip, and ate, stealing more glances at him. He hadn’t taken time to clean himself up on the Falcon, and the facial hair that darkened on his jaw the past few days made her curious. He looked like a different person with it, just like he did with his curls tied back. It framed his lips, which were full and soft-looking, and added a magnetic sort of vulnerability to his face. Her fingers found her way to his face, trailing softly down his cheek. “Are you awake?” She whispered, softly enough that the children weren’t disturbed from their games.

Ben mumbled a semi-wordless acknowledgement, still struggling to sort out the chaotic sensations that tumbled through his body.  Rey's hand was a point of stability, warm against his skin.  With the usual current of the Force just beyond his reach, it was strange to feel her only through touch, rather than through the connection that had become almost an afterthought to him.  She felt distant, separate... but her fingers on his face anchored her to him.  The drugs were working their way out of his system, leaving in their wake a sensation of floating, of falling, of bone-deep tiredness.  His body was betraying him, refusing to move, limbs trapped in thick honey.  A snide part of his brain reminded him that the trip through the sandstorm really had been a wretched idea... though with his track record still not the worst he had ever had.  He told it to shut up.  He was home, Rey was close, and none of them would go hungry until this cursed storm had passed.

Home... he pushed the word away.  It was a stupid word, and clearly his mind was not functioning as it should.  

With great effort he managed to lift a hand to cover Rey's, sliding his fingers between hers and holding it tightly.  It would do, in lieu of their usual contact.  It was strangely comforting.

As his heartbeats slowed to a more normal pace he couldn't fight the black exhaustion that swept over him, but as the rest of the world faded away he held onto her, the narrow strength of her hand in his anchoring him as unconsciousness swept him away.

Rey ignored the pointed look Ari’li gave their twined fingers, and resisted the binary urge to draw her hand away or move everything closer. She’d never seen him so unguarded, so vulnerable, and it stirred a protectiveness in her. She wasn’t going to let anything happen to him. It was that simple. It was that complicated.

She stroked her thumb along his cheek, and laid her head against the cushion. Her forehead tapped his chin, and she felt him exhale into her hair.

The children played, the porg chick avoided being eaten, and Rey monitored Ben’s slowing heart rate until it returned to something sluggish but steady. As the common room grew quieter, she dozed, woke to a thin blanket draped around her shoulders and another over Ben, and resettled herself a bit more comfortably. Her leg was asleep, her hip numb, and all she wanted to do was stretch out and drop off. But that wasn’t an option.

Her movements brought her up onto her knees, leaning over him as she situated her legs. His face was quiet, his lashes dark against his cheek, and his mouth was softly parted. She leaned down, recognizing she was going to kiss him an instant before she actually did. She halted a centimeter from his lips and breathed softly for a few startled seconds.

Why the hell was she trying to kiss Ben? Was it his vulnerability? If it had been Poe, she wouldn’t have hesitated at all. She closed her eyes, playing out the idea in her head. What would happen with Poe was predictable. He’d have half-woken long enough to realize he was being kissed, possibly woken up just a bit more to see by whom. Then he’d have pulled her into his arms and lazily kissed her back until either they both fell asleep, or other parts of him woke up enough to encourage a higher level of functioning.

But Ben. She had no idea what he’d do. Probably not even wake up, given how he’d fallen asleep. And anyway, she didn’t want to kiss him. She was tired, and the comfort of the quiet moment must have overtaken her brain. She redirected the kiss to the available stretch of skin beside his nose, placed a second one slightly higher, and ignored the suggestive tug of her instincts to continue the pattern lower.

Drawing away, she settled back down and leaned her head on her arm. Not kissing Ben should not have been such a battle. Maybe it was just familiarity. It had nearly been four standard months since she’d liberated him from that makeshift prison. Four months since she’d last been properly kissed. It was something she’d lived without for her whole life, but besides the intimate connection of her mind with Ben’s, there was nothing that had ever come quite as close to connecting her to another human being.

She missed it. She missed Poe’s particular brand of it, and the hands and skin and words that came with it. She missed Finn’s strong hugs and Rose’s infectious grin. She missed stretching out in the morning, and finding another body there.

Ben’s had done quite well, the other morning, her mind reminded her helpfully. Even if she hadn’t been awake enough to realize what happened, her groggy body had very much appreciated the solid muscles and long limbs, the powerful thigh nestled hard between hers.

And her waking mind would stop thinking about that right now.

She forced herself to imagine something else—a conveniently distracting memory of Poe, and the celebrations after the signing of the new Republic’s official document of state. He’d stepped up behind her at the bar. Right behind her. At first it was a lean, a one-armed hug around her waist as he pressed his stubble-rough cheek to hers and ordered something from the bartender.

She hadn’t known how to respond, how to ask him to stay and hold her a little longer. Poe usually flitted around these things like a glitter wing, talking to everyone, offering that open, charming grin and companionable chucks on the shoulder. He’d swayed a bit, dragging her with him, and talked easily into her ear. She’d managed a few noncommittal responses, which he’d taken without discouragement.

Then the bartender had used one tentacle to set down Poe’s drink, and Rey—suddenly terrified to lose his warmth at her back—had clamped her arm down on his, securing it at her waist. He’d hesitated only a second, the fingers of his free hand setting cold condensation into dripping tracks down his glass. Then she’d felt him take a deliberate half step forward, pressing her into the bar with his body. She recalled exactly how the shudder of her sigh had felt, the way his hand had fallen to her ribs, the other flattening on her belly. His face had nestled warm into her neck. And then it was all the calloused friction of his hands moving down her stomach, the sweet, aching lift deep in her abdomen as he whispered something wicked and sweet and horrible into her ear.

That was better. This thought was acceptable. And if her mind was making him subtly taller, with larger hands and a lower voice, well...that was her mind.

***

Ben woke slowly, head fuzzy and pain digging into his temples.  His mouth was dry and he had to think long and hard to remember back to the last time he had felt this battered and drained.  The memory his mind helpfully produced did nothing to improve his mood.  That time he had woken in hiding, those few companions who would join him in the Knights of Ren surrounding him protectively.  

He didn't want to open his eyes, dreading the light, but as he shoved away the memories of darker times he reached out and tested his connection to the Force, finding it back in its familiar place.  He doubted that he could wield it with much strength at the moment, but it was there and by association, so was Rey.

With a groan he pulled himself into a sitting position on the narrow couch, squinting as he looked around the room.  The sounds of happy porg and children's laughter slowly reached his ears, and he sighed.  Back in the hovel, back in the storm, back in this dull and tiring prison.  

He could hear Rey moving around in the small attached kitchen, and as he swung his legs off the couch she came into sight, her hands wrapped around a steaming cup of something that was probably tasteless and bland.

"Next stop, a planet with featherbeds and proper plumbing."  Ben complained in her general direction, the rough sound of his own words surprising him.  The wind and the sand had stripped his voice and his throat and lungs ached as he breathed.  "I've seen how you lived, I don't like it.  Now it's your turn."

He glanced out the hole in the ceiling to where the storm still blew past the bluish haze of the shields.  "How long did I sleep?  As soon as this storm passes, we have to go."  He looked back at her.  "Quickly."

 “I’d say you get used to it,” she said, “but I was born on Jakku, and I never did.” She set down her cup and turned back to where she had been prying off the last component from the third condenser—she’d decided to gut it after all—and snagged a second metal mug from the shelf above. A flick of a switch, and the first condenser beeped its level at half capacity. She slapped the mug beneath it, flicked the water to hot, and heard it gurgle and steam out a stream of scalding water.

A tin above the mugs had an assortment of drink tablets. She sniffed a few, then settled on one that smelled like cold, cut greenery. A second pod of some sort of insect-nectar went in as well, resulting in a strong-smelling concoction that steamed her face to wakefulness. She extended it toward Ben.

“Here,” she said. “You sound like you tried to swallow your lightsaber beam.”

Taking the mug from her suspiciously, he wrinkled his nose as he smelled it.  Ben leaned back against the counter opposite from her, letting the warmth of the cup sink into his fingers as he held it.  "I saw a message coming through on the Falcon before I left."  Despite his general mistrust of the liquid he was holding, the discomfort of talking caused him to risk taking a small sip.  It was bitter, and decidedly unpleasant, but it did serve to soothe his throat.  

"The Alliance will be here as soon as the storm clears."  He met her eyes, watching for her reaction.  "I'd like to be gone before they land."

Rey paused, the pliers halting against the piece of framework she was bending back. She twisted her head back to look at Ben.

“You want to go out into the storm again?” she said incredulously. “It doesn’t seem to go very well; have you seen you?”

He arched an eyebrow at her.  "I don't have to, trust me.  I can feel the effects just fine." 

He looked back down at the mug, frowning.  "You don't want me to be here when the Alliance arrives either. You may have sway with a few of the right people, but..."

He glared at the bitter tea as though it were offensive.  "I was thinking when the storm starts to stall out, when the winds are lighter and easier for us to hold back. We could slip off right at the end of the storm, before they make landing."

Rey considered a moment, weighing the thought of staying behind to see the children’s care safely transferred to Republic hands, against the very definite possibility that any Republic or Alliance official who came into contact with Ben would feel obligated to arrest him. She wasn’t sure how that would go. There were two distinct possibilities—that Ben would let himself be captured as he had on the planet where she’d found him, or...

And then there was the matter of her accompanying him. Not arresting him, not officially sanctioned on a mission. Just...with him. She sighed, leaning her back against the condenser casing. She banged the back of her head against it, hating that he was right.

“I don’t want to leave them,” she said. “They’re just so...small. I don’t feel like I was ever that small.” She swallowed. “It’s already dying down. I thought it was going to be longer, but the pitch of the wind has changed, can you hear it? It won’t be more than two days before it’s safe to land and take off. Which means their scanners will start picking up life forms in about six hours. We’ll have to fight the winds if we want to use the storm as cover. We’d have to leave tomorrow.”

"As you said, the wind isn't as strong as it used to be.  Between the two of us it shouldn't be all that difficult."  He followed her gaze as she subconsciously glanced through the door to where the children were playing.  "And they'll be fine."  He tried awkwardly to reassure her.  "It's not as though we were planning on taking them with us."

Setting the mug down mostly full on the surface next to him, he crossed his arms over his chest stiffly.  "The Alliance will take care of them.  And no matter what happens, their lives can't possibly be worse than they already were. Only better."

Rey’s face twisted in disbelief. “I don’t know if—no, that’s not true. I can tell you’re trying to be reassuring. Stop trying to be reassuring. You’re terrible at it.”

A soft breath from the doorway sent her twisting hard toward it. Ari’li stood there, half concealed by the edge of the door, a hand pressed over her mouth. Her red eyes were wet, and she looked between them, her face a rictus of confused betrayal.

“You’re leaving us?” The girl whispered.

“Ari,” Rey said, sliding from the countertop. “Listen to me, okay. We’re not leaving yo-“

“‘It’s not as though we were planning on taking them with us’,” Ari’Li quoted. Rey’s chest ached like someone had pulled her heart out at the roots.

“Ari’Li, no. That isn’t-“

The Chiss girl’s little blue hands curled into fists, and her crimson eyes cut a slash up to Ben. “You never wanted to save us,” she spat, then whipped her gaze to Rey. “But I thought you did! What is it, then? Credits? Or are we just _practice_ to humanize your dark Jeedai? Liberator of children—Kylo Ren, on the path to redemption! Yes—“ she hissed, slashing her formidable fury back towards Ben. “I know who you are dark Jeedai. And I thought I couldn’t hate you more.” A tear spilled over her cheek, and Rey was almost surprised that it wasn’t red. “I was wrong,”

She bolted into the hallway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You didn’t need that heart, right? Here, I’ll just—I can—okay, I’ve got— *drop*
> 
> Huh.
> 
> Oops.


	15. 0.75 Porgs

Ari,” Rey could barely get the words out around the swelling sob. She staggered forward. “Wait, Ari—no...”

Ben stared after Ari'li, the girl's words still ringing in his ears.  Reaching out he caught Rey's wrist and stopped her as she tried to follow, shaking his head.  He had recognized the look in the girl's face, it was all too familiar.  Rey pulled against his grip, glaring up at him accusingly with tears in her eyes.  

"Stop."  He said firmly, refusing to let her go.  "Give her space. She needs time to be angry, and it's not like she can go far."  He glared through the door through which the girl had fled, emotions warring chaotically inside.  What more did they expect from him?  Had they honestly thought Rey and he were going to sweep them away, some strange and broken space family?  They had lived enough life to know better, to know reality from fantasy.  He had never led them on, or made promises he didn't intend to keep.  Frustrated anger boiled in his chest, annoyed with Rey for being too kind them, annoyed with himself for letting them get too comfortable, for even bothering to risk himself for their stupid little lives. 

He choked back that bitterness, knowing that no matter how much he wanted to deny it, he would have gone through that storm anyway. He would never admit it to her, but Rey's influence had already changed more in him than he was entirely comfortable with.   Slowly he let her go, scrubbing a tired hand through his hair. 

"What more can I do?" he asked her, frustration in his voice. "I'm not their dammed hero. I never claimed to be." 

Rey swallowed, tears flickering down her cheeks as memories swirled up inside her. “They don’t need a hero,” she said. “They just need someone to care.”

She wanted to step into his arms. Oddly, the feeling was not dissimilar to the way she expected Ari’li felt—that desperation to connect, to be comforted, to be cared for. The want of it rooted Rey to the spot. Indecision warred in her. On the one hand, cold practicality—sharp, unvarnished truth. They were not going to be a family to these children. Even Ari’li, who had worked her way steadily deeper into Rey’s heart, needed something she couldn’t give, not as she was now. She wanted to hate Ben for pointing it out.

On the other hand, Ben was acting on experience. They both were. They both knew what it was like to feel abandoned and betrayed, and even if their reactions had been different, that sameness between them had always been one bridge that never needed to be built. It was there naturally. He was older—how many years, she didn’t know. Five, seven, ten—it didn’t really matter. He’d sat with that anger long enough to let it go bitter.

She stepped in, stepped right up against him and pressed her face into his chest. The fabric of his shirt wicked up her tears, and her breath caught warm in the fibers as she spoke, muffled, into his sternum. “I can’t just leave her with it. She’ll turn out like you.” She pushed a thread of comfort toward him, a slight tingle of mirth to let him know she meant it to be funny, if not entirely true.

Ben glared down at the top of her head, and one arm wrapped around her automatically. It was instinct, to always try and bring her closer. Strange, that after all the time he had spent reaching out desperate for her to take his hand as she seemed to slip further and further away, it was now so easy to be together.  

"She won't."  He said moodily, tilting his head down until his nose was in her hair. "Neither of us have tried to kill her yet." His humor was dark, but it surprised him that he could speak about it at all now.  Something had changed while he had stopped paying attention, since he was no longer alone with his own darkness.

With a sigh he pushed away from the counter and stabilized her, moving her gently away from him.  "I'll talk to her."  It was the last thing he wanted to do.  "But I'll probably make it worse."  Without thinking he lifted his hands to cup her face, lifting it towards him as his thumbs brushed away the tears on her cheeks.  For a moment they were frozen in place before Ben maneuvered awkwardly away. His heart was racing faster than was comfortable, most likely still dealing with the aftereffects of the drugs he had taken.

Ben hurried from the small room, still feeling the dampness of her skin on his fingers.  Reaching out to the force he sought out Ari'li's flickering presence, huddled alone in the room furthest down the corridor.  Stomach knotting with a foreign sort of tension, he made his way towards her, unsure what to expect.  

She was huddled at the foot of a bed, arms wrapped tightly around knees that were pulled up to her chest.  Her shoulders shook with crying, blue skin tinged grey.  As he stepped into the room she looked up at him, red eyes wet and angry.  "You're a monster!"  She threw at him violently, voice shaking with emotion.  The words rang in his mind, familiar words, that rolled over him and carried with them more than she could know.  Then, as now, they had been filled with hate and with tears.

"I am."  He agreed quietly, stepping into the room and crossing his arms over his chest.  "But I never claimed not to be."  He glared back at her, knowing that anger.  Pity would only make it flare hotter, platitudes would ring false and empty.  "You claim you always knew who I was, so why did you expect otherwise?  What did you think was going to happen?  You're free, you'll be cared for, and we never promised you anything."  It was surprisingly hard to speak so coldly to her, but he saw his words sinking in, both sharpening her fury and dulling the sting of it.  Anger was a strange and irrational beast to carry, unpredictable and --as he had slowly discovered-- sometimes easily confused.

"I-"  She scrambled for a response, not needing it to be a rational one.  "You were supposed to be better!"  She yelled at him, uncurling and standing abruptly, little fists clenched and shaking at her sides.  Ben stepped closer and crouched down, putting himself more on her level. 

"Why?"  He asked flatly. 

"You just were!"  She charged him then, but he was expecting the violence and braced himself as she hit his chest.  Her hands beat at him, thudding against his sternum as she half cried, half screamed at him wordlessly.  He let her do as she pleased, knowing how intensely that anger burned, but also how quickly it could burn out.  The ferocity of her attack was an outlet that she desperately needed, and he waited until she began to slow, until her sobbing screams became hiccups to carefully wrap one arm around her tiny shoulders.  She was like a tiny Rey, tear-streaked face buried in his shirt as her fists opened and gathered handfuls of fabric that she still tugged at weakly.

"I'm not better."  He said quietly, holding her as she cried.  "But I'm... trying to be."

***

Rey hugged every one of the children, wishing she didn’t have to leave them. The storms on this planet raged hard and burned out fast, and they were running out of time to leave without the Republic ships picking up their signal.

She crouched in front of Ari’li. The girl’s tears were gone, replaced by an unhappy but stable sort of firmness.

Rey hadn’t asked what Ben said, but she’d heard Ari’li’s screamed replies and guessed at the child-sized beating he’d taken to win the return of that calm. He’d carried her back into the kitchen a few minutes after the shrieking sobs had quieted. She looked even tinier curled against his shoulder, sitting in the crook of one arm with her fingers fisted in the collar of his shirt.

Ben had dumped the thin, hiccupping bundle of damp Chiss child into Rey’s arms, snatched up his tea, and skulked out.

Now, Ari’li pressed her small mouth into a firm line and nodded. “We’ll be okay,” she said.

Rey took her hand, pressing a small chip she’d harvested from one of her com links into the girl’s hand. “You can always reach me,” she said. “That’s a…a secret frequency. I’m sure Ben knows it too.”

Leia’s frequency. Not retired, because the other Resistance and Rebel Alliance fighters hadn’t been able to stand the thought of her legacy dropping away, piece by piece. It had been Rose’s suggestion to pass the channel on to Rey rather than their new leader, and while there had been a few protests, Poe had shaken his head and refused to take it.

“Leia would have wanted her to have it.”

Ari’li closed her fingers around the chip. She seemed to waver a moment, then pitched herself into Rey’s arms and hugged her hard. Rey wrapped her up and hugged her tightly, turning her face into the girl’s curly black hair.

“Thank you,” Ari’li whispered.

Then, to all-around astonishment, she strode to Ben, drew back, and kicked his boot with sharp, surprising violence…and a grin. “If you get her killed, I’m going to find you.”

Ben glared down at her, crossing his arms over his chest stubbornly, though Rey felt a whispering tendril of amusement and... fondness?  

"Grow up and learn how to fight before you dare."  He snapped back challengingly.  "Then maybe if I've managed to keep her alive you can help us take over the Galaxy again." 

"You don't deserve the galaxy."  She shot in return.  "You'd take bad care of it."

Ben snorted as she stamped away, little chin lifted high.

Shaking his head he met Rey's eyes, shrugging.  The pitch of the wind was lessening with each hour that passed.  The porg chick that he had carried back was now nestled deep into the Sarissa's fur, and seemed perfectly content not to return with them to the Falcon. 

Pushing open the door, Ben braced himself for their return trip through the sands to their ship.  "We'll be stronger together."  He said quietly, holding out a hand to her, still not quite trusting that she would take it.

Rey wanted to miss the significance of the gesture, willfully pushed back the understanding that he had reached out to her like this before. It had been impossible for her to take his hand then. He hadn’t understood, hadn’t seen how wrong his vision of their future and the fate of the galaxy was. He’d wanted too badly to just reject everything that had ever hurt him, burn it down, and start again. He’d wanted that. But he’d wanted her.

They were always going to be stronger together. At least this time, the immediate goal was the same—get to the Falcon. Get off world. Everything after that was a giant universe of unknowns.

She reached out, aware that it meant more than it would seem to everyone looking on. Somehow, it was like the first time, when he’d looked at her over the fire, and she’d reached for him. The glove had come off, and for an instant, he wasn’t Kylo Ren, but Ben Solo, and they were connected, and they would never be completely alone again.

She couldn’t break away from his gaze, even as she lifted her hand, even as her fingertips met his palm with an electric jolt. They stared at each other for a single, frozen instant, and every inch of eternity seemed to sweep through her at once. She watched him feel it, the slight widening of his brown eyes. And then her fingers were crawling more fully into his hand, conforming and gripping, ready to race into the storm.

“Sarissa,” she said, glancing back at the Wookie girl. “Punch it!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so how much do you want them to totally adopt Ari’Li? Because I want them to totally adopt Ari’Li.


	16. Four Score and Seven Porgs

Ben could think of nothing in his life that had ever felt better than the long shower he took as soon as they were back on the falcon.  Definitely more important than food, than sleep, and at the moment he was fairly convinced it was even better than sex.

He hadn't been chivalrous enough to offer that Rey go first, so they had drawn straws with a determined competitiveness. Rather, they had reached into the dark space under the bunk in the lounge, and he had drawn out the smaller porg. It was as good a way to settle things as any, and he didn't like the porgs nesting there—it brought them dangerously close to several of the power lines of the ship that ran nose to tail under the floorboards.

Scrubbing grit out of his hair and out from under his nails, Ben did try at least a bit to hurry, knowing Rey doubtless wanted to be clean every bit as much as he did. His wound was healing well enough, though it still pulled uncomfortably when he stretched too far. It was Rey's that concerned him more.  As soon as they had the time, he wanted to find a truly civilized planet to set down on and have someone take a look at it before she lost feeling or range of motion in the arm.

Reluctantly shutting off the water, Ben triggered the dryer to whisk the water from his skin and pulled on new clothes, his last pair. That was another thing to deal with when they had the time.

Pulling his fingers roughly through dark curls that were now horridly tangled, Ben wondered out into the living area to wave Rey in for her turn.

Rey stroked the downy feathers between her porg’s eyes, grinning as it fought to keep them open. It was either purring or growling, and had slumped into a decidedly fat squidge on the holo table, barely aware of the game monsters committing holographic murder through its body. She hadn’t tried to get the most massive porg in existence, but he’d seemed to fling himself into her hand, ruining her chances at first shower.

Or maybe it was a she-porg, and she was preparing to drop a dozen eggs next to the warmth of the machinery.

“Is that how you reproduce?” She asked. “Or do you just split into seven smaller porgs once you’ve got big enough?”

The porg was spared having to answer when Ben emerged from the refresher, scrubbed and dressed in gloriously fresh-looking clothes. Rey started to rise, but stopped as he lifted his head and looked at her. His hair was a disaster. A shiny, curly, tangled, thick, beautiful wreck, and Rey wanted to put her hands in it.

Instead, she picked up her porg and lobbed it underhanded toward his chest.

“Watch that one,” she said. “I think they reproduce by mitosis.”

She passed him, forcing as much space as possible in the narrow opening between Chewie’s bunk and the viewport. She ducked into her bunk and snatched up a clean tunic, trousers, and underthings.

She was an efficient washer. There was no lingering in clean water on Jakku, and though she’d certainly learned to let herself scrub and rinse thoroughly, she found it difficult to justify standing in the hot water once she was done. Today, she looked down at herself and mapped the still-healing bruises and injuries she’d sustained over the past four standard months, and forced herself to stay an extra three minutes.

A million messages had pinged onto her comm the second they’d risen above the sandstorm, most of them from Finn. A record three missives from Poe had arrived as well, the last of which had included with it an explicit order to report in. She sensed fear in it, rather than anger. He wanted to confirm she was alive, and he likely knew that everyone else needed to confirm it too.

Home. It was his word, not hers, but that didn’t make it less true. Home was where she could hug Finn and laugh over a gutted X-wing engine with Rose, and feel cared for without any effort at all. But strangely, it was also the Falcon. It was days of surly silence and moments of desperate warmth, fumbling to find solid ground in an uncertain universe. It was big hands on the co-pilot’s controls, and a head of wrecked black curls.

She took in a deep breath of humid air and flicked off the shower, surprised to find that she was uncertain about leaving Ben. Progress had been slow, but something was taking hold. He struggled, he was still cold and angry, but another part of him—long pruned and scorned—now had delicate green shoots, just daring to uncurl towards the light. It felt like a mistake to leave him now, no matter how fast she came back.

She’d have to talk to him. There was really only one way to figure out if she could leave him yet, and expect to find him again when she came back, and that was to see if he would let her go.

The fat porg squirmed in his arms and Ben dropped it rudely onto the couch. They were pests, and Rey's mitosis idea might explain why there seemed to be an endless supply of them. He was fairly sure they would take over the galaxy if allowed. Perhaps something on their native world had held their population in check?  Some element of the air or water, or a particularly heartless natural predator.

Still musing over the thought, Ben's steps carried him automatically up the ladder into the gun well that had been his one shelter for what seemed like such a long time.  As uncomfortable as he still felt walking the halls of the Millennium Falcon, the gun well now felt more cramped than sheltering, more distant than pleasantly removed.

He hesitated, hands resting on the rucksack that held most of his possessions on the ship.  Maybe it was time to give up hiding like the criminal he was considered and settle in.  

Dragging the pack back down the ladder with him, Ben looked through it, taking stock of what he had. Painfully little, as it turned out. Tools to tinker with his lightsaber, bits of electronics salvaged from his ship, an old first order communicator. There were definitely no spare clothes, he was effectively out of those.

He paused when his fingers brushed fabric, pulling the now slightly wrinkled vest out of the bag. Apparently the porgs had actually done as instructed, tucking it back where they had found it. Laying it out over his knees Ben absently tried to smooth the creases from the fabric. It was all too easy to imagine how useful Rey would find the pockets; maybe he would have to play fetch for her tools less often.

Taking a deep breath, Ben stood and folded it carefully over the back of one of the chairs at the holo-table.  Stepping back, he looked at it draped there, chewing at his lower lip thoughtfully. It seemed so out of place, in his mind it stood out glaringly.

His fingers twitched with the nervous desire to quickly snatch it back, to stuff it back into his bag and forget about it entirely. Irritated with his own indecision, Ben furiously jammed his hands into his pockets to resist the urge. It was just a stupid vest!  Rey probably wouldn't even think anything of it.

Sitting back down, he resolved not to keep looking at it. She would notice it on her own, and the headache it had brought him would be over, one way or another. He distracted himself by trying to slowly untangle his hair, one curl at a time.

Rey emerged into the lounge, still combing her hair back into the tail. Ben looked focused on his own hair, almost irritated. A smile split open on her face at the cross-eyed concentration.

“You know, they make these for a reason,” she said, and tossed her comb toward him. “Don’t tell me the First Order didn’t supply you with such advanced tech.”

He glared at her, still feeling on edge.  The vest was like a third presence in his senses, hovering.

"It didn't exactly make it out of prison with me."  He replied, tugging it roughly through his hair, which puffed irritatingly in its wake.

He was attacking his curls like they’d offended him. Rey watched a moment, debating. Maybe it would help talk if she calmed him down a bit first, soothed him like an agitated animal.

She walked around to the back side of the lounge, climbed onto her knees on the back-facing chair, and liberated the comb from his hands.

“It’s hair, not an enemy legion,” she said, and finger combed a section back. Her fingers stopped almost at once. “On second thought, I think there was a Wookie brush in the refresher. That might be better.” She gave his hair a gentle, playful tug.

She didn’t want to tell him. She wished she’d never read the message from Poe. She didn’t want to leave him.

Annoyed with both his own hair and his irrational nerves, Ben took a deep breath and tried to find his calm. At least outwardly. Projecting control was easier than actually feeling it.

He didn't pull away, letting her work slowly through his tangles, and found that he enjoyed the feeling of her hands in his hair.  

"You're anxious about something." He felt it shivering off of her, something she was trying to hold back from him unsuccessfully. “What is it?"

Her hands slowed in his hair, and she found she was working it through her fingers in a half-meditative way. It was comforting, like petting a porg. Only it was nothing at all like petting a porg, because there was a dangerous man underneath those dark curls.

“I’ve been asked to report in,” she said, ripping off the bandage. She clenched her fingers into soft fists, holding on, as if her hands knew she didn’t want to go. “Ordered. Actually.”

Ben was quiet, her words processing slowly in his mind along with all the possibilities involved.  Had she been ordered to bring him back for the trial—and likely execution—the Alliance wanted so desperately to put him through?  If not, what was she intending to do with him?  Was she going alone... was she planning on coming back?

A sweep of bitterness flooded through his stomach, leaving it empty and tense. The bag he had brought down and gone through now sat at his feet in open accusation. It had been foolish to think that things were different.

"I see." He locked down his boiling emotions, keeping them tightly wound inside him. “So what is your plan?"

Rey swallowed, letting the coldness in his voice wash over her and trying not to shrink from it.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I...wanted to talk to you first and see...” she trailed off. There was something building now, she could sense it. A static charge that would either be dispersed, or snap to violent life.

She reached out with her feelings, tentative against the edges of his presence, asking to be let inside. She felt a bit like crying, a bit like she was stuck out in the rain, knocking on a doorway, unsure if she would be let back inside where it was safe.

Her hands trembled in his hair and she went back to combing, hoping to disguise the shaking. She felt him slipping away already, and the thought frightened her more than she was prepared to admit.

“I don’t want to go,” she said. A moment later, she wondered if she’d even said it.

Ben closed his eyes, his emotions and his reason warring within him.  He did understand.  He knew what the chain of command entailed. Hell, he had _been_  the chain of command.

Rey was too important to the Alliance for her to simply disappear along the edges of the universe with the new government's most wanted man. Of course they needed to see her, to reassure themselves that he had not killed or corrupted her. 

And it made perfect sense for him to let her, one more shred of proof to her, to them, that for all the evil he had done he was at least trying to do better.

But all the logic in the world held very little weight against the crushing fear of losing her. Of one more person turning their back on him and walking away. The demons in his mind whispered that she would want to stay once she was back with those she knew, that home would be too warm, too strong a call for her.  That the last few months had been nothing more than the brushing of their hands in the dark of one rainy night, not enough to make a difference when he needed her the most.

"You should go." He said, words feeling alien in his mouth.  He could feel the shaking of her hands in his hair and almost reached out through their bond to reassure her... but that would mean letting her see him in return.  And at the moment he was not sure she would like what she saw.  Jealousy, and darkness.

"Let them know I haven't murdered you."  There was bitter humor in his voice.

 “Ben...” she said, not sure what she wanted him to say or do, but certain it wasn’t this. She pressed mental fingers against the door in his mind, leaning into it.

“It’s not the right time,” she said, unsure why she was trying to talk herself out of going when it was clear she had to. “I can send a message, tell them we’ve found one more and I’ll come back after-“

"No."  He stood, feeling her hands slide from his hair as he interrupted her.  Turning to face her he met her eyes, memorizing the insecurity and sadness there.  "You have to go."

He sighed, trying harder to box up his intense reaction to the thought of her leaving.  

"Rey, you're at the far end of the universe with the only person that just about every person in the galaxy wants dead, except for the few I'm still trying to hunt down and kill. They need to see that you're real. Just... don't leave me on some rocky nowhere planet. Take me back to the Betrayal, at least I can spend my time productively."

He narrowed his eyes at her.  "Just let me know if you don't plan on coming back."  The words were harder that he had expected to say.

They knelt on opposite sides of the lounge, a few inches of foam and fabric and steel framework between them. It felt like miles. Rey wanted to close them, kick down that stupid mental door, plunge into the heat and insecurity of his mind and take up fierce permanent residence. He was daring her to hurt him, daring her to leave the way they'd both been left. It pissed her off.

Rey acted on instinct. She surged forward, grabbed fistfuls of his shirt, and shoved him back. She hauled herself over the lounge’s divider and struck her knee on the frame, boot tangling in some stray fabric. She wasn’t sure if she was going to hurt him or hold him or kiss the hell out of him.

“Of-course-I’m coming-back, you—ass!” She punctuated her words with little shoves, rendered indecisive by the way her fists kept hold of his shirt and pulled him back each time. Or, really, pulled herself forward, because they were in an awkward half-standing, half-kneeling, completely off-balanced tangle between the lounge and the holo deck.

She met his eyes, her own fierce and bright with tears. “I’m coming back,” she growled.

The vehemence of her response caught Ben completely off guard. She barreled into him, and with a surprised grunt of pain, he slammed his back into the edge of the holotable. He brought his hands up, making a grab for her wrists as he braced their weight to keep them from sliding completely to the floor.

Trapping her arms against his chest with one hand, he held her as she struggled, finally opening up enough of their connection to try and calm her down. The flood of anger and fear that poured from her through the narrow gap took his breath away.

"Rey...Rey..." he wound his arms tightly around her, crushing her to him possessively. In that moment he knew that he would chase her across the universe if he had to, if she changed her mind.

Slowly she stilled in his arms and he shifted slowly, levering her weight back onto the lounge seat and tucking her into his lap. "When are you leaving?" he asked quietly. 

Trembling in anger, aware that she was sitting on Ben’s thigh and clutching the stretched-out parts of his shirt in her fists, Rey forced herself to breathe out the tension in her back. She glared at nothing, her head tucked against his neck. “Probably as soon as I can get you to the Betrayal,” she said.

The fat porg sauntered up to them, stretched its stubby wings, and lifted straight off the floor onto the holo table. Rey’s brow drew low.

“They don’t look like they should be able to do that,” she said. “They don’t have enough wing.”

She might have been deflecting, but it felt safer to step away from the subject of her leaving for now. And she needed to keep talking, because silence would give her too much time to observe, and the last time she’d done that, she’d nearly kissed him. She half wanted to do it anyway, just reach up and turn his head to hers, crush herself against that mouth and rake her nails against his scalp.

Hells, why had she ever let Poe teach her what she’d been missing? Damn him. She’d never imagined things like this before.

Maybe if it had just been the one night, she wouldn’t’ have changed. But it hadn’t been. She’d made it clear that night at the celebration party that she was happy for the sex to continue, and he made it clear that he was just as happy for something purely physical. Friendship, of course, but his big heart was stretched too thin. It was covering a galaxy that needed him to be there 100%. Love wasn’t in the cards. Neither of them wanted it to be.

But hell, he’d taught her things she hadn’t even realized she didn’t know, done things she’d have been mortified to know people did at all, and made her crave them. Now that she had examples, and context, would it be like this forever? Constantly wondering what it would feel like for the men she got close to to touch her? Maybe it had just been too long since she’d been good and fucked.

The porg on the holotable trilled, scenting the air. Rey felt herself flush, hoping it wasn’t smelling the spike of hormones flushing through her system.

She stood abruptly. “I need to sleep,” she said, and stopped only long enough to drag Ben’s head to her chest in a quick hug. She practically ran from the room after that, certain he would be able to smell her too. She locked her door, collapsed on her bunk, and pressed the back of her hand to her burning forehead.

Maybe it was a good thing she was going home now. She could get this out of her system. And if Poe was too busy, well, he’d recommended a few other people. His regular companion Vara was, he’d told her, an excellent kisser and, like Poe, not picky about gender, race, or—within reason—species. Hell. Maybe she’d take him up on the teasing suggestion of all three of them piling into his bed.

He’d said it to make her squeal in embarrassment, which had worked, but now? Now she’d be willing to do just about anything to drive away the thoughts of kissing Ben Solo.

Ben stared numbly after her, thoughts chaotic and confused.  Usually he felt as though he understood Rey's actions, her pain and her joy and all the complicated things that made her Rey.

At the moment, he understood nothing at all.  She had been warm and angry in his arms, storming at him and clinging to him and he had almost drawn her in and... what?  The draw between them had always made him want more of her, the attraction he felt to her had always been bone deep and frustrating.

From the night he’d battled with her in the snow, he’d been inexorably drawn to her passion and her vitality. He had wanted her even then, though his need to possess her had faded with time into something deeper and somehow sweeter.

Cursing, Ben stood and paced across the room, skin still tingling with her proximity. His eyes fell on the vest, kicked down from its perch when she'd attacked him. Unnoticed. Ignored. 

Bitter frustration spiked through him. He grabbed it roughly off the chair and flung it across the room at a small porg who was watching him anxiously from under the bunk. 

“Do whatever you like with it."  He snarled at it as it nosed the fabric curiously.  "Nest with the fucking thing for all I care!"

Grabbing up his bag he stormed back towards the gun well, determined to ride the trip back to his ship out in silence if that was what she wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’ll be slowing down our rampant posting schedule a bit over the holidays, but Sathya and I adore you all and hope this gives you some squeeful cheer!


	17. 44 Porgs and Lunch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no! Our darling duo is separated! WHAT EVER COULD BE IN STORE? *cackles*

Though they’d barely said a word to each other in the last four cycles, Rey couldn’t just drop him off at the Betrayal. She also couldn’t let herself hug him, or even start to say any of the things she wanted to say to him that preceded the inevitable goodbye, so she worked on his ship instead. She tuned it up, reset the crystalline communication transponder, and made several other minute and almost-pointless tweaks until she could no longer justify staying.

Then it was just her and Ben, standing on the ramp of the Betrayal. She looked up at him, her lips twitching into the slightest of worried smiles.

“I’ll be back,” she said. “Don’t leave here, or I’ll hunt you down. And you don’t want me after you.”

"Are you sure?"  He tried to joke, though it fell flat to his ears.  "It might be a nice change of roles for us."  He met her eyes, finding that he was trying to memorize her face.  The part of him that didn't trust her to come back, desperately holding on.  

Sighing, he crossed his arms, mostly to keep them from reaching out and pulling her in.  "You have my frequency."  He narrowed his eyes.  "So if anyone uses it to hunt me down, I'll know who to blame."

“The only one hunting you down will be me,” she said. “Or maybe Ari’li, if you’re especially unlucky.” She stepped in, tipped up on her toes, and kissed his cheek. “For luck,” she said, not really knowing what kind, only that they’d both need it.

It was a long, solitary flight back to the core planets. She fueled up in the inner rim, performed the perfunctory porgish purges, and spent a good deal of time answering every one of Finn’s short messages. He and Rose, it seemed, had moved somewhere off base, though he swore they’d both be there to meet Rey when she landed. Rey only stopped responding when a brief, amused message from Poe flashed across her screen, asking her to please stop distracting Finn during a senate meeting.

The overly large porg had fallen ill, and much though the little things somewhat confused and annoyed her, she found herself unable to kick it out of her bunk. It had a tuft of white down that stuck crazily off the top of its head, and though she fell asleep with it at the foot of her pallet, she always woke up with it snuggled under one of her arms.

She named it Lunch, because it would have made Ben snort.

At last, she pulled the Falcon out of hyperspace and streaked into the atmosphere of Yavin IV. As Rey zoomed along the descent line, she saw balconies dripping with golden flowering plants and vast marketplaces shaded by a latticework of glass and vine, all mixed in with the deep jungles and old Massassi ruins

She was shocked to find the airfield was private, and even more shocked to find that the berth the comms official directed her to was registered, permanently, in her name. She felt her friends nearby, their excitement and nerves, and she didn’t think she’d ever completed a landing sequence so fast.

She didn’t wait for the hatch to fully open, but vaulted off of it the second it was wide enough to let her through. Then, all at once, she was wrapped up in arms—Finn and Rose, attacking her from both sides.

"Mind if I cut in?"  Poe's voice was laced with warm amusement, and before Rey could even fully turn around he swept her up in a hug, lifting her feet off the ground.

"Hello there, gorgeous!"  He laughed, grunting softly as he wobbled back and braced their weight.  "Good to see you in one piece!"

Setting her back down, he held her at arms length, hands light on her shoulders.  He looked her over thoroughly, narrowing his eyes in a parody of serious appraisal.

He nodded at Finn. "Looks healthy, good teeth. I'll take this one."

Rey laughed, and shoved him away, only to drag him back in a second later for another hug.

“Missed you, Ace,” he said, low enough that the others couldn't hear. Rey’s heart flared warm at the nickname.

“Yeah, well, don’t take her too far,” Finn said, putting his arm around Rose. “We have plans for her.” He looked at Rey, a wide grin on his face. “Notice anything?”

Rey looked him over. “You...have a new shirt?”

“We all have new everything. Poe has a stupid uniform of state.”

“It’s not stupid!” Rose said. “You have a robe. That’s stupid.”

”Yeah, only I make it look amazing.”

Rey blinked at Rose, at the strange way she was standing, pelvis angled slightly forward, shoulders back. Rey glanced down, clicked the tightness of the girl’s belly against her coveralls, and looked back up at the girl’s sweetly beaming face.

“YOU’RE NOT?”

“My ankles hurt all the time,” Rose said, as Rey messily disengaged from Poe’s arms and cupped her hands around Rose’s belly. She reached out, wondering if she could already-

A flicker of life, a candle, protected inside a shade. “I can feel her life,” she breathed. “That's amazing. She’s amazing.”

“She?” Finn said. “Wait, she? Can you tell it’s a she? Rose wouldn’t let the med-droid tell us! Is that a Jedi thing? Can Jedi tell? Gods, are we having a she?”

Rey’s eyes popped wide, and she drew her hands away from Rose, backpedaling until she collided with Poe again.

“No, I don’t—I’m not sure. I don’t know. I just said she. She might not be a she. It just felt...like it?” She looked at Poe for help.

Poe lifted his hands in a gesture of innocence. "Oooh no, I'm not helping you out of this one, Ace.” He looked back at Finn. “If the nice Jedi lady says it's a girl, I say you start looking at baby names, Papa Finn."

Leaning close to Rey's ear, Poe mock-whispered, "If it's a boy, I don't think I can save you."

Rose drew back and punched him in the arm.

"Ow!"  Poe rubbed at the area, looking offended. “I think it's the hormones. She's been getting more and more violent." 

Swinging an arm around Rey's shoulders he began to guide her away, Rose and Finn trailing in your wake.  

"We have a lot to show you, actually.  Things have come a long way..."

They led her on a tour of the new governmental wings, regaling her with stories—mostly exaggerated on Poe's part—about the trials and tribulations they had suffered in her absence.  Senators swayed to their side, new politicians learning by way of appalling mistakes, and something about a Jawa Poe had sweet-talked into a deal.

The role of Senate Leader for the newly-forming government was settling slowly onto Poe's shoulders, and he handled it well despite a restlessness that still kept him up at night.

Finally ending the tour at the construction site of a new governmental hall, Poe spread his arms and turned in a slow circle.

"So...  what do you think? It's a bit much, right? I knew it was, I tried to tell them 'No! smaller, less governmental! More spaceships!’ I was overruled."  He shook his head sadly.

 “There’s nothing that can’t be improved by more spaceships,” Rey said. “I guess you do have to fit representatives from...how many planets is it now?”

“Six thousand one hundred and seventy four,” Rose said.

“Seventy five,” Finn said. “We got Sullust this morning. Luckily, the senate goes by system, not by planet. Do you realize what that means? I’m supposed to make decisions for eight-point-three billion constituents. Constituents—that’s a word I had to learn!”

“He can’t even match his socks,” Rose said.

“ _Billion_ ,” Finn emphasized. “Not million.”

Rey’s eyebrows crept up. She’d only taken in the broadest things about the tour, but it didn’t matter. She couldn’t stop smiling, couldn’t stop basking in the bright energy of three of her favorite people in the universe. By the time they left the site of the new senate building, the sun was setting over the trees and a whooping line of vibrant blue birds streaked across the sky.

“We reserved somewhere really great for dinner,” Rose said. “You’ll have to put something else on, though.”

“Something else?” Rey said. “I...I don’t have anything else, really. Most of it-” most of it was covered in blood, ripped to bandages, or had vanished into porg-nests. “I need to do a bit of resupplying.”

The other girl grinned and looped her arm through Rey’s.

“Oh no, what you’re wearing is fine. You’ll just need to put a wetsuit over it. All the best restaurants here are underwater.”

Rey balked. “You want me to swim?” She said incredulously. “I’m from a desert planet! I can’t!”

"Don't worry, Ace, you don't actually have to swim."  Poe laughed, loving the horrified expression on her face. "Rose is exaggerating just a bit.  Don't worry, the gear does all the breathing for you, and the guide will pilot our belt propellers.  You just enjoy the ride." His grin was wicked.

"The restaurant is domed, so it's nice and dry and full of air. I did take the liberty of buying you a sexy swimsuit, but that's for later at my private lake. Didn't you hear? They gave me a fucking lake!  It came with the estate."

He sighed, not wanting quite to admit how much he hated both. They were large, empty, and entirely too overwhelmingly elaborate.  

"I think so far I've managed to fit all my things into half of one room. Maybe I'll rent out the rest of the space to tourists or something."

Rey sensed the buzz of anxiety on him and slid her hand into his. “Excess is uncomfortable when you’ve spent so long with practically just the clothes on your back.”

“I’m not suffering,” Finn said. “He has a lake. A lake!”

“You could start an orphanage for intergalactic children,” Rey said, thinking of Ari’li and Sarissa and all the others. “Teach them to fly spaceships for the New Republic Navy. Or get a porg and see how many you end up with. I swear they’re like platinum fish; they multiply to fill whatever space they’re in.”

Poe groaned.  "Fucking porgs! You know, we had a trading ship come in from the outer rim about a month back, they had a porg problem. Left a few behind, we managed to round them up and send them back home. Then a week ago a transport came in from a completely different port, and guess what? Yup, porgs!” He huffed in exasperation. “I'm pretty sure there are still a few around here.  How the hell did they get everywhere?"

Rey opened her mouth, and immediately shut it again. Surely, she and Ben hadn’t shuffled that many porgs off at space stations? Had they unintentionally started a galactic invasion of porgs?

Tilting his head in consideration, Poe took her hand and looped it easily over his arm as they walked towards the waterway.  "Your other idea though... not a bad one."

The words utterly distracted Rey from the expansiveness of the porg problem. She’d meant the suggestion offhandedly, thinking of only how she’d have used the space. But if Poe would even consider it, maybe there was a chance of putting her charges somewhere she knew they’d be safe.

Ari’li would love to learn to fly a fighter. She blinked, and behind her eyes, Rey saw a blood-streaked transparisteel pane and rows of tiny, perfect faces.

As Rose and Finn drew ahead in an animated conversation about names, Rey slowed her walk, unsurprised when Poe effortlessly matched her.

“Did the relief crew get you a report?” she asked. “About...”

About the kids. About Ari’Li. About the life pods filled with hundreds of shining red indicators. Her fingers tightened around Poe’s arm. There had been some things she couldn’t bear to write down in her own summary of events.

"Yes," Poe said. He rested a hand on hers, lacing their fingers together.  "It was rudimentary, but..."  He paused, letting the others draw even further away.

Finn glanced back and made to stop, but Rose urged him on, more sensitive to the situation. Poe drew Rey to face him, looking down at her with sadness in his eyes. 

"I'm so sorry, Rey.  We're so sheltered from it all here, frustratingly so.  It's too easy to start to forget what it's all for."  He lifted her hand to his lips, softly kissing the backs of her knuckles.  "That's the hardest part. So much of the time I think we're just not doing enough."

Rey shook her head, wishing the sting of tears wasn’t so quick to the surface. “You’re doing enough,” she said, and the tightness in her throat made her voice come out a whisper.

She ran her free hand through his hair, brushing it back from the temples. There were unexpected threads of silver there, and they fascinated her. Poe was in his early thirties. Surely, that was too young to already be going gray...

“I didn’t know who else to talk to about this,” she said. “I failed them, Poe. I didn’t know the Vogori Kha worked that way—tethering someone’s vitals to the life pods, in case they’re betrayed.”

She found she couldn’t look at his eyes, and dropped her gaze to the metallic clasp of his shirt. “If I’d known in time, I could have altered the signal. Or figured out which one it was. But,” the tears spilled over. “I’m the one who killed him. I don't want to be told it's not my fault. I just need someone to understand how I feel about that.”

Because Ben didn’t. He couldn’t. Not yet, and that made it all so much harder.

Poe gathered her carefully into his arms, one hand threading into her hair and pulling her head to his shoulder.  He kissed her temple, feeling her shaking against him.  Her pain was tangible, Rey had always worn her emotions on her sleeve. 

“I understand." He said quietly, closing his eyes. "There's been too much death.  Too much worthless, stupid death."  

Rey's tears were dampening the collar of his robe, and he stroked her back gently, soothing her. “There isn't always time in battle to figure things out, Ace. I know. You make the best of the information you have at the time." His chest tightened with his own memories of people lost, names written on his heart forever. A list longer than he could bear.  "And then we learn from it."  

Drawing back, he tilted her chin up and met her eyes.  "We can cancel dinner, move it to tomorrow if you like."

She desperately wanted to say yes. It would be such a relief to just step into Poe’s arms, to go back to that big, empty estate and pretend the rest of the universe didn’t exist. But her eyes strayed to Finn and Rose’s figures up ahead, and she gave a soft sniff, trailing her hands up to Poe’s wrists.

“They’re so excited,” she said.

"They're excited by everything."  Poe teased lightly, smiling.  "But yes, they are."

He hugged her again, a quicker thing, full of comfort and understanding.  "We'll make dinner quick, and I do promise you'll love the food.  It's as far from Jakku portions and space rations as possible."

Poe was as good as his word. Access to the restaurant involved almost no swimming, and though she did flail about in a moment of panic the instant her body was submerged, the moment she confirmed she could breathe, she began to calm down. Then it was just...a wonder. Everything, all the life forms and strange architectural corals. Finn even pointed to a large, distant shadow that felt, to Rey, like a near-ancient presence.

Dinner was insanely good, filled with intense and strange flavors, and Rey only paced herself because she didn’t want to go back through the water with an uncomfortably full stomach. She even drank a bit of wine, though she hadn’t really developed a taste for alcohol.

By the time the dome above them was a rippling map of sea-blurred stars, Rey felt better. They’d all crushed into one small part of the circular, cushioned booth, and she felt loved and safe under Poe and Finn’s twined arms. Rose, tucked against Finn’s other side, was probing for more information on the Hutt envoy coming in from Nal Hutta the next day.

“I heard Jabba put Leia in a metal bikini,” she said. “But this is a lady Hutt. Poe, how do you feel about metal bikinis?”

He shrugged.  "Not as uncomfortable as I do about lady Hutts."  He grimaced.  "What do I do if she likes me?  Why doesn't someone else take a turn being charming for once?" He shuddered. "I mean, I had to seduce this Noghri once to break a friend out of prison during the war, but I draw the line somewhere."

Reaching for his wine, he took a long sip as Rose snorted tea out her nose ungracefully.

Finn was still howling when the waiter arrived with a new napkin for Rose and a round of desserts the size of her fingernail.

“Now that’s a friend!” Finn laughed. “How the hell do you seduce something with that many sharp teeth!”

Rey was trying not to choke on her own drink. The only Noghri she’d ever met were dark, mottled green and had knobbly head-ridges above muzzles bristling with teeth. The idea of Poe sidling up to one and turning on the charm, doing that slow drag of his gaze up and down. A subtle touch. A knowing smirk. And...

Her mind refused to process more. Still bubbling with amusement, she examined the desserts. They looked like tiny solar systems trapped in gelatin, and upon closer inspection, she found the card that noted how each of them represented a sector of the current Republic.

She found the sector that contained Jakku and, with a glimmer of vengeful glee, stuck a serving tine through it.

She finished a second glass of wine, and was feeling decidedly, happily lightheaded. Poe’s hand on her knee was warm, and she snuck her fingers beneath his shirt cuff, tracing the bones of his wrist, pinching the wide flesh at the base of his thumb. The novelty of just being…allowed to do that still hadn't worn off. Part of her wanted to see if he was still receptive. For all she knew, something had changed in the last four months.

Finn flagged down the waiter for one last round, but Poe waved it off, shaking his head.

“God Finn, how do you keep it up? I thought I could hold my alcohol."  He laughed, hand turning to catch Rey's under the table. “And look at this one, she's falling asleep.  You do realize she just traveled halfway across the galaxy, right?"  

He threaded his fingers through Rey's, thumb rubbing small circles absently on the inside of her wrist.  He was certain she knew how worried he had been about her, it was so good to see her laugh and smile again, even if there was a sad tiredness behind her eyes.  He wanted to soothe that away, to give her the space to relax and grieve.  

Ignoring Finn's protests, Poe slid out of the booth, dragging Rey with him. “No, no, we're done. And so are you, for her sake."  He pointed at Rose.  You're going to make her drunk just by kissing her, and that isn't good for the baby. Also, you're paying."

With a wink, he left them there, Rose still sniggering into Finn's shoulder.


	18. 1 Porg (but WHERE)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY FOLKS, this is where we begin to stray firmly into the Mature territory. Brace thyselves.

Activity was the best way to deal with not thinking.  Ben had felt almost numb after Rey had left, the Falcon streaking through the air and away from him, taking with it a sense of security that he hadn’t even been aware of until it was gone.  He had expected there to be more anger, the same anger that had burned with the slow weight of coals in his belly since Rey had mentioned leaving, and yet when she was suddenly gone he just felt empty.  
   
Examining that feeling was not a task he wanted to undertake, and so he distracted himself with a slow examination of his ship.  He checked behind her panels for lines that may have stiffened or cracked with disuse, but she was better built than that, and as her engines slowly warmed she purred like a kitten.  Unlike the aging Falcon, The Betrayal hummed with a quiet power, no joints creaking, no strange and unidentifiable clanging echoing inside her workings.  She was power and speed and efficiency all wrapped up in elegance.  Everything that Ben appreciated in a ship.  
   
Paying the port master the ridiculous sum that he asked to cover the nearly seven months that she had been in berth, Ben finally settled into the familiar seat of the small cockpit, allowing himself to enjoy the micro adjusters that formed her slowly to his body, making her comfortable even for long journeys through space.  The glowing electronics and the modernized heads up display that leapt up around him were bright and clear, ready to act on his command without hissing, spitting, or complaining.  It was a rather nice change of pace.   
   
Taking her through her start up routine, Ben managed to keep his thoughts from wondering by pulling up lists of the top players on Aurelia, known for its wealthy inhabitants and extravagant lifestyle.  Settled just outside of the core worlds, Aurelia had always been a planet of luxury and excess, where the rich and less-than-honest threw about their money on a whim.  Anything that could be procured in the galaxy could be found there; goods, entertainment, or services.  Though he had only visited the planet once, the dark violet skies filled with constantly dancing golden auroras were distinctive… distinctive enough that he had recognized them at once when he had caught a glimpse of them in the mind of the First Order commander he had pillaged for information.   
   
The list played out on the screen of his secondary computer, names and titles—presumably fake and illegally purchased—scrolling by as he searched for any which were familiar.  Someone there was fundraising for the First Order, and he intended to find out who.  
   
When he had first taken to the outer rim to pursue the remnants of the First Order, the small and luxurious interior of the elite ship had been a haven.  A much-needed silent space to process—or avoid—his own thoughts.  Now, as the blue sea of hyperspace streaked past outside the cabin windows a strange restlessness sank into Ben’s bones, making him uncomfortable. 

On the Falcon he had only ever wanted to be on any other ship, but now he found that despite his resistance to the idea, the Falcon was once again becoming a place of--if not refuge--at least familiarity.  There were no porgs to distract him with their squeaks and irritating intrusions, and no Rey to constantly buzz at the edges of his awareness.  Isolation settled in around him, bringing back the darkness that tugged at the edges of the Force, always whispering.  The bitter anger of the Dark side had always been a comforting veil he drew around himself when he was lonely, and it was a struggle not to retrace familiar patterns.  
   
When he dropped out of hyperspace near Aurelia, he couldn’t have been more ready to escape the Betrayal, and the old habits that she brought back.  Reaching out to the port controller, he obtained his landing permissions, buying his way into a private berth.  A ship like Betrayal wouldn’t stand out here, where high-end and expensive was the norm, but he didn’t want any questions being asked.  This was a planet of anonymity, and that suited Ben just fine.  Credits did the talking here.  
   
The rest of day was spent making preparations to contact relevant planetary information brokers.  The Betrayal’s computer system held imprints of several different identities already crafted for him, identities that had been of great use when the Supreme Leader of the First Order needed to get things done in secret.  Ben was certain that at least two of them were still active and untraceable, or at least they should be, given what they had cost him.   
   
He chose the one he had used the least in the past, least likely to be known to any higher ranking officials of the First Order should they have survived.  Layto Tahn, second son of a senator killed when the First Order destroyed the core worlds of the Republic. The sole survivor, inheritor of the family fortune, but none of the titles or now non-existent land.

Ben looked over the profile, considering.  It would do well enough.  Making the necessary arrangements, Ben transferred a small portion of his funds from Hapes onto a portable banking chip in Layto’s name.  It would be enough to suffice.

****On the other side of the galaxy****

The trip back up to the surface was lazy and relaxing, and Poe loved watching Rey's delight as she looked around them with almost as much excitement as she had on the way down.  This must all be so strange to her, the water, the lush greenery.

He had a chauffeured lift take them back to his newly constructed estate, seeing Rey's eyes widen with delight as she looked around.  

"Really it's too big."  He sighed regretfully.  "I'm not comfortable with..."  He gestured around lamely.

“Of course not,” Rey said, looking around at the beautiful walls, dripping with jungle vine, and the dusty red tiles that covered the low-slung building’s floor. “There are two things you love in this world: people and spaceships. And you don’t have any of those here.”

She grinned. “Yet. If I know you, you’ll figure out how to jam this place full of the galaxy’s finest reprobates, and then you’ll never want to leave. They’ll have to move all the senate meetings here to your...what is this?” She asked, spinning around the place that wasn’t quite a courtyard.

It had vine-drenched lattices dripping with fruit and crystalline lights. “What do they even call a place like this?”

He shrugged.  "I have no idea. I need a whole dictionary just to learn new terms I've never heard of. Like promenade, and buttress, and peaceful negotiation."

Rey grinned, eyes going catlike in amusement. But there was something fragile there, still. Something under the surface that bothered her. A new edge, uneasy and untrusting. And he was afraid he knew what—or who—had put it there.

Catching her hand as she went by, Poe pulled her against him, brushing flying strands of hair back from her face.

“Are you alright, Rey?" His gaze was intense, searching.  "I know you've been through a lot out there." He danced around what he really wanted to ask, knowing it was the one thing they had never been able to agree on.  "Are you... safe?"

She’d known the question would come some time, but at least Poe knew how to deliver it. She didn’t want to argue with him, not when her head was full of wine and her back was finally relaxing after months of holding tension.

She slid her hands inside his jacket and around his waist, tugging him a step forward. The planes of his chest were hard, and the muscles in his back had not suffered for any lack of exercise. He was warm, as always. A kind of heat that cut through the cool night like a comfortable campfire.

“I’m alright,” she said gently. “The situations I go into are a bit dangerous, obviously, but that’s not something I can exactly avoid. But I can promise you, I’m not... I’m not in any danger from him.”

She met Poe’s eyes easily, and slid her hands up his back, cupping his shoulder blades. It was strange, not having to look up so much. She’d never thought of Poe as short, or even particularly small. And he wasn't either of those things—he was a standard height for a human male.

She’d just gotten so used to cranking her neck back to look at someone over 190 centimeters tall. It was strange to be nearly on eye-level, but comfortable, to be able to pull him against her like this. To be able to move him at all.

"How can you be so sure?"  Poe couldn't help but push the matter, couldn't wrap his mind around Kylo Ren not being a danger to, well, everyone.  "Convince me, Rey.  I need to believe you.”

He swallowed. “At the last battle with the First Order, on Karrakesh, you went after him. I know you expected to have to kill him.  When you came out, he was gone and you've never been willing to tell us what happened.  I need to know."

His hands traced the line of her back, petting her as he tried to make her understand.  He drew her with him to one of the low benches that ringed the garden, pulling her down beside him and taking her hands.  For someone so strong they had always felt so small to him. Delicate.

His rough fingers were soothing, and they made it easier to talk. Poe deserved to know why she trusted Ben—all her friends deserved to be put at ease that she wasn’t running around the galaxy with someone who might decide to murder her. And if anyone would be willing to listen to her without questions, without interrupting or judging, it was Poe.

But the idea of dredging up that horrible day was... Rey closed her eyes, blocking out the beautiful place before her. How could she tell such an ugly story here?

Poe’s thumbs rubbed her palms, and she focused on them like a tether, and forced herself to recall that brutal day.

“I thought...” she swallowed, and started over. “For a long time, I’ve known we were connected. Since before Snoke bridged our minds. I think, since the first time he got inside my head, and I pushed back into his.

“It’s-“ she grimaced, remembering that Poe knew exactly what that sort of invasion felt like. “Seeing someone else’s mind is strange. It’s like being in the dark, surrounded by all these solid shapes, and when you touch them they...give you thoughts. Thoughts like they’re your own. Memories like they’re your own.”

She frowned, her brows pinching as she recalled what it had been like to push into Ben’s mind. “I’ve been inside his, and I would have expected to find pride there, and blood, and anger, and all the horrible, monstrous things I knew were inside him. But the most overwhelming thing I found was fear. He was afraid.”

She took a breath, turned her hands over in Poe’s and fidgeted with the calluses along his palms.

“When I went into the base on Karrakesh, I didn’t expect to come back out. I thought, we’ve been connected for so long. If what the Force wants is balance, it’s clear that neither great light nor great darkness can exist.”

She took a deep breath of the sweet, heavy air. “But then I remembered that fear inside him. And I remembered the moments of good I’d seen in him. After our minds were connected, I couldn’t keep him out, but he couldn’t keep me out either. When Leia died...”

That was not the right subject to bring up around Poe. In many ways, Leia had been a replacement mother to him, after his own Rebel pilot of a mother had died. Ben was a multifaceted problem for Poe. Too multifaceted, perhaps, to tread lightly.

“When Leia died, I think it finally...broke him. We’d both been barricading our minds since Crait, and neither of us even wanted to get through. But when she passed, when she was passing... I made him watch. I brought him to me, to her. And in her last moments, she saw him there. Through the Force. You were there. You heard her say his name. Because he was there too.”

“So when I got to the nexus—what they called the throne room—I fully expected to fight him, and to kill him, and to die. And he was standing there and looking at me, and I just thought... I didn’t want to kill him. And I didn’t think he wanted to kill me. He’d always only ever asked me to join him, to let him teach me to use the Force. He wanted... someone who understood him, I think. Someone who had the same sort of power.”

She swallowed. “The guards let me approach. I remember I was prepared to fight, and I saw the look on his face—the same one he had on the bridge on Starkiller base, before he killed Han. And I looked at him and I thought, I don’t want to do this. I thought, I know who he is, better than anyone else. And I wasn’t going to fight him. So I didn’t. I...turned off my lightsaber. I threw it down. And I walked up to him, just like Han did. I told him he could kill me, and if he couldn’t do that, he could come with me.”

She squeezed her eyes closed. “It turns out, he found a third option. He couldn’t kill me. He refused. But the second he lowered his lightsaber, the guards turned on him. I fought them off, but...he wasn’t fighting. I had to use both our lightsabers to keep the guards from killing us, and he just knelt there, like the choice had completely broken him. The Supreme Leader, broken on the floor.

“I was fighting off the last of them when his lightsaber ripped out of my hand. The last thing I saw was him getting into the lift. It all vanished into the smoke and the sparks, and I... Well. I came home. And I didn’t know where he went. Only that he wasn’t dead.”

She let the silence seep in for a long moment, absorbing the sounds of the quiet night and the smells of sweet fruit and fresh earth and Poe’s leather jacket. At last, she opened her eyes, and turned to look at him, almost afraid of what she would see.

He was watching her intently, letting her words dig into his mind as he tried to make sense of them.  it was so hard to see Kylo Ren the way she did.  The only point of reference he had was of pain lancing into his brain like claws, a dark mask filling his vision as his thoughts were dragged over coals and his memories raped for information.  His screams had fallen on unflinching ears.

Shaking back the memory, he took a deep breath, forcing his hands to relax in hers.  The picture she painted was of a completely different man, human and fallible.  "I can't trust him, Rey."  He finally said slowly, wanting to offer her equal honesty in return.  "I will never be able to see what you see."  He ached for the pain in her eyes, wishing he could be a better person for her sake, more forgiving.  He lifted one hand and rested it against her cheek, thumb tracing over her lower lip softly.  "But I trust you."  He pulled her in, placing a soft kiss on her forehead.  "And I suppose that means I have to trust your judgment."

His hand slid deeper into her hair, soft strands falling through his fingers as he pulled free the band she used to tie it back. It fell around her shoulders in a curtain, the light of the other moons casting a halo around her face.  "Just... be careful."

She hadn’t expected Poe to change his mind about Ben, and that would always be a burr in her mind. But Ben had earned Poe’s mistrust, and it wasn’t fair to blame the pilot-come-Resistance leader for not seeing him the way she did.

But he was giving her trust. He was giving her space to act how she thought was best. And he was giving her a kind of solid support she’d never before experienced. “You’re a good friend, Poe,” she said, rubbing both hands up his chest, his neck, and into his hair. “Sometimes I wish I could be in love with you. I don’t know if it would make anything simpler, but you’re the best human being I’ve ever met. Well. You and Finn.”

She leaned forward, and when her mouth met his, there was soft heat, and the roughness of his stubble against her face. His tongue was light and sweet, and with a hint of bitter tannins from the earlier wine.

They kissed gently at first, carefully letting their hands remap each other. His fingers were a cradle for her head, and she felt safe, and understood, and adored. He deepened the kiss with firm concert of movements, and at last, she melted into him completely. She gave a happy little gasp as he dragged his mouth to her throat, where the combined textures of soft, wet tongue and rough stubble set her fingers to curling in his shirt.

The slight pinch of his teeth sent a flicker of sensation straight to her brain, and she felt her body warming up, going soft and tight between her legs as, suddenly, there were more than memories to go on.

She’d been so tense, so frustrated for so long that she’d felt slightly crazy. Touching herself hadn’t worked—she’d been spoiled by thick, practiced fingers and her own were no substitute. And hell...the way he was using his tongue right now was exactly like he’d used it inside her. And by the vulpine smirk on his face, he’d intended for her to remember just that.

Fuck, she wanted him. She wanted his ridiculously talented hands on her thighs, and his hard body naked against hers, and she wanted him inside her, that neat, heavy cock making her whimper as he tested her controls, her triggers, and dismantled her piece-by-piece.

Rey tugged him upright, let him get a good hold on her before she and shoved herself against him, pinning him bodily against one of the vine-draped columns. She kissed him hard enough that his head thunked into the column, and her hands dragged his shirt free.

He caught her hips, a steadying motion, not a stopping one, and Rey went for his belt next. She left his trousers fastened and slid her hands inside the waist band, and raking her nails gently up the tight lines of his belly. The instant shudder it produced made her feel powerful. This was what she’d wanted. This was what she’d been needing, when her brain had suggested she kiss Ben.

Well, she didn’t want to kiss Ben. She’d chosen not to, and now she was going to make another choice: Poe Dameron.


	19. The Porgs are Not Invited to This Chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *klaxons* EXPLICIT *klaxons* EXPLICIT.
> 
> Ahahahaha, sorry guys. I know this was not the explicit you came for, but it’s the explicit the story REQUIRES.
> 
> And Poe is fucking gorgeous, so just go with it. We all want him to be our friend with benefits, right? Right.

There was a trembling need in the way that Rey attacked him, a vulnerability that cried out for familiarity, and home, and hands that wouldn't let her go.  Poe braced his back against the column, hands sliding under her shirt and up the smooth lines of her back.  His fingers played along the ridges of her spine, massaging lower and lower into the waistband of her pants as she arched against him in response.  She was sensitive there, hips pressing forward against his in answer to the insistent pressure.  He knew the map of her body, what made her gasp with surprise and pleasure, what made her melt.  He had memorized her slowly as he taught her what it was to want more from another's hands, taking the time to learn what made Rey... Rey.

His hands slid lower, fabric collecting at his wrists as he cupped the soft swell of her buttocks, lifting her against him.  He moved his kiss away from her lips, down her jaw and the line of her throat, tasting the salt of sweat and the inland sea through which they had swum.  Each of his lovers had a flavor all their own, and Rey's was the sweetest.

Heat from her hands on his torso swirled down from her fingernails, pooling lower as she moved against him.  With a low growl, Poe exercised enough control to still his rising desire for her and separate them just enough to push away from the column and take her hands in his.

"Trust me."  He whispered into her hair with a lopsided grin, enjoying the haze of need in her dark eyes.  "The ground is never as comfortable as it looks."  He dragged her towards the villa doors, and the one room he had claimed for his own.

Rey leaned into Poe’s back as he paused to let the door scan his hand and face. She slid her hands into his pants and cupped his hipbones, kissing his neck. Poe hadn’t changed—he felt the same, he tasted the same, and the rough sweetness of his hands had already set her skin alight. She was perhaps five centimeters shorter, and so the tan skin at the back of his hairline was easy to reach. When he opened his room, she disengaged enough to let them walk in.

It was not a very Poe room, and Rey could immediately see why he felt unnatural here. All the furnishings had been carved out of the same marble as the rest of the villa, and though his stuff had done something to scruff the place up, the carefully tended plants and tinkling indoor streams were far too peaceful for a mind like his, always full of gears and grease and people. The wall had a massive window that was clearly the sole reason Poe had chosen the room, and now it offered a view of the stars and a lake so mirror-serene it almost made it look like space.

“This is beautiful,” she said, releasing him enough to get around in front of him. His shirt gathered at her wrists as she slid both hands up his back. “I’d go crazy here too.”

Poe laughed, sliding his arms around her waist and slowly walking her backwards towards the bed near the tall window.  "I know, right?  All this pretty shit is enough to give me nightmares."  He grinned at her, ducking to kiss the tip of her nose.  "Well, that and lady Hutts."

As the low edge of the be hit the back of her knees Poe halted, hands teasing up her shirt and pulling it over her head.  "So..."  He purred, leaning in and nuzzling her neck and nipping softly along the join of shoulder and throat.  "You haven't forgot me, right?"  He pushed her backward, and she landed in the cloudy bed with a laugh. Poe shrugged out of his jacket and pulled his own shirt off before leaning over her, crawling forward like a stalking creature until she was grinning up at him, eager to play the game. "Because if you have," he began threateningly, sliding a leg between hers.  "I may have to do all sorts of things to remind you."

Rey sucked in a sharp, happy gasp as his threat sank straight into her with a spike of pure lust. It was hard to keep the smile from her face when he was hitting her with the full force of his charm, and she bit her lip to keep her face straight, but lost the battle and laughed.

“I could use a good reminder,” she said. “It’s the least you can do after ruining my ability to be alone for months at a time.”

"Well then." There was a wicked gleam in his dark eyes. His hands dragged down her sides, tracing over the lines of her hip-bones and hooking his fingers in the waistband of her pants.

He drew them slowly down over her hips, trailing distracting kisses down her shoulder and over one small breast. She twitched under him, and he dragged his rough cheek over the soft swell of her breast. All the while, his hands were working, sliding down the outside of her legs, pulling the fabric away and throwing it aside. His tongue found the stiffening nub of one nipple, and after a moment of teasing, he covered it with his mouth.

Rey sucked in a breath at the wet heat, calloused hands and eloquent tongue making distracting contrasts on different parts of her. Warm tension drew her muscles tight, set a pleasure coiling through her. She could feel him hard against her leg, and spared one hand to quest lower, working at the fasteners of his pants.

The other stayed in his hair, fondling the dense, coarse curls. She loved the feel of his jaw working under her hand. Her feelings flung wide, unable to resist reaching for him in the Force as well. And he was beautiful, and he cared for her so much it felt almost embarrassing. But it was still the love of a friend. If they had both been just slightly different people, with just slightly different needs... But they weren’t. And there was no reason to let that destroy the beauty of what they were.

She drew his trousers down a few inches with her feet, but he was too far down her body to do the rest. And he was only moving lower. Instead, she rubbed her hands over his shoulders, down the tan skin of his arms, grazing fingernails back up along his triceps.

The initial tension of first contact was beginning to fade, and the desire pooling slow and languid in her belly made her at once impatient for more, and willing to wait for it. She shifted her legs, accommodating the shape of his torso between them.

She hadn’t remembered what it felt like. Not properly. The little lightning strikes of pleasure as his hands gripped and twisted at her thighs sent her twitching, letting out light sighs that barely touched her vocal chords.

Poe took his time, reminding her of all the ways that he knew to make her gasp and arch beneath him.  Rey was simple and pure, and the abandon with which she expressed herself always left him crazy with need for her.  The soft sounds she made whispered over his skin, heightening his awareness of her. 

By the time he had them both undressed and nestled down into the soft blankets around them, Poe had traced every inch of her body with either tongue or hands, and the sweet scent that was uniquely Rey filled the dark air. She was wet, and loose, her pupils blown wide in those striking hazel eyes.

He moved back up to her lips, catching her mouth with his and tracing his tongue over the line of hers.  She was a much better kisser than when he had started teaching her; awkward laughter had punctuated their enthusiastic 'lessons'.  Now she kissed him back with intensity and not a small amount of skill.

He braced himself above her, hips sliding between her thighs as she wound strong legs around him and drew him in.

As he pressed inside her, Rey slammed her head back into the pillow with a whispered curse. She was already sensitive, the steady application of tongue and strong hands had brought her close to orgasm twice, though Poe had carefully lessened the intensity each time.

It was a technique he’d made her familiar with over the months after their friendship had expanded into the physical territory. The first time he’d done it, she’d been filled with a near-rageful desperation that had made him laugh, especially when she tried to pin him and make him give her what she wanted.

He’d caught her wrists and twisted back on top of her, swore to make it worth it. And it had been. She never came harder than when he’d forced her to crest and subside a few times first. And if she needed him, if waiting felt simply too cruel, he always relented, always gave her what she wanted as straightforwardly or thoroughly as she needed it. Except for the first time, when they’d both been hurting, it had always been fun, and safe.

Now, Poe cradled the back of neck in one hand, pressing his other into the mattress as he made the first shallow, exploratory movements inside her since the night before she’d left. Excitement and pleasure twined through Rey’s belly at the feel of him, wide and slick, pressing her open. A soft sound whispered from her throat, and she crooked her legs open wider, reaching for his waist.

He gave a soft groan and pumped into her, deeper now, the contours of him pushing open the places his fingers hadn’t been able to reach, and… _there_.

The burst of intense pleasure glittered through her, and Rey gave a shuddering gasp. Her brain lit up in sensation, her arms and legs tightened around Poe, drawing him desperately in for more. He was damp with sweat, muscles moving beautifully under his skin. She wanted that deep thrust again, but he backed off, drawing slowly out, the ridges of him dragging rudely over...  _fuck_. He knew her so well. Rey could have sobbed as he dug his knees into the bed and snared one of her legs, tugging it up over the crook of his arm.

Heart racing, Poe held on to the slow building of them both, Rey's body clenching around him in steady contractions as she whimpered for more.  His own need was sparking along his veins, lightning under his skin as he slowly increased his rhythm.  He knew her well, felt when her body couldn't hold out against the sensations any longer. The decision now was whether he wanted her coherent, or a half-sobbing wreck.

Pride said the latter, but the fingers digging into his back, and the fiery trust in her eyes said that what she needed right now was something simpler. He braced himself against the bucking of her hips, taking his own pleasure as he moved harder against her, stroking deeper.  They were flying together, the night coming alive with their voices as he drove her over the edge and, seconds later, followed.

When he could breathe again, the warm air was stealing the sweat from their skin, and Poe drew her into his arms and held her close.  Her heart still raced against his own, and he breathed kisses into her damp hair.  He stroked her back with gentle hands, glad to feel less of the tension she had been holding all day.  He nibbled playfully on one ear, feeling her laugh breathlessly against his neck.

"Welcome home, Ace."

Rey grunted a laugh, slung a languid arm around his back, and curled into him. Exhaustion had never felt so wonderful, or so welcome. If she’d been a porg, she would have been purring, settling into him like a comfy nest of wires and scrap insulation. Instead, she nuzzled her head against his sweaty neck and traced mindless patterns on his back as their heartbeats slowed together, and they both succumbed to the soporific comforts of a soft bed, a warm body, and a good friend.


	20. 43 Porgs (In Poe’s Estate)

Affairs settled and contacts made, Ben returned to the Betrayal as dark night began to fall over the city.  Not that there was ever truly darkness on Aurelia, between the natural theatre of the sky and the brilliant nightlife of the elite.  All that was left to do was wait, wait and see if the bait that he had cast out across the city bore results.  
   
Despite the wide variety of luxurious accommodation Aurelia had to offer, Ben preferred the solitary comfort of his ship.  Somehow the desire he had felt for soft beds and petty comforts seemed irrelevant now, perhaps it had been more born from wanting to show Rey something beyond her meagre upbringing.  
   
Settling into the tiny bunk that folded down in the cockpit of the Betrayal, Ben darkened the transparisteel of the windows, blocking out the brilliance of the world beyond.  Tiredness seeped into his bones, deeper than just a natural need for sleep.  He was tired of fighting his own demons and though for some time they had felt almost distant, they now pressed around him with silent accusation.  The voices of the dead whispered in his mind, accusing, judging him.  He wanted to throw their accusations back at them, to insist that it was they who had done the betraying, thrown him into the dark.  But there was no one left alive to accuse.  Turning to his side, Ben tucked his face into his arms, trying to close them out, lock them away again as he drifted off into restless sleep.  
   
The dreams came again, but this time they crept slowly, taking over his sleeping mind.  He was standing again in the throne room, seeing Rey’s weapon fall away, watching her step closer.  There were tears in her eyes, and the look of trust and regret on her face was all too similar to another’s.  He wavered, battle turning inward as every part of his mind screamed at him to kill her and be done with the torture he felt in her presence.  Again and again he thought that he had killed off the last remnants of the light in him, needed it to be true.  With the death of Han, with the death of Leia, with the destruction he had caused.   
   
But there she stood, and his body would not listen and his heart was tearing apart in his chest.  His hands were shaking on his lightsaber, and her hands were lifting to touch his face.   
   
Then she was no longer alone.  Luke and Leia stood at her shoulders, spirits moving through the force to stand united with the last Jedi.  He knew they were there for him, to watch him fail and fall, to ensure that the cycle ended with him.  He wanted to scream his accusations at them, to blame them for the years of loneliness, of betrayal and abandonment.  They should have been his shelter, but instead they had cast him out and judged him harshly.  In that moment, if they had offered him forgiveness, he would have burned the world down.  But instead they took the words from him, apologized… and asked for his instead.  
   
In the dreams the locks he had so carefully put in place came apart in a thousand pieces, flooding him with memories more intense than he could face.  He struggled from sleep, trying to fight them back, to hold them at bay with the solid reality of the world around him.  The dark still air of the ship, the low hum of the spaceport around him.  But it was too late, and his breath tore raggedly from him as all he had avoided crashed into his mind.  
   
Han and Leia, holding his hands and laughing at some joke he didn’t understand as they walked through the streets of the republic…  
   
Chewie’s broad shoulders warm beneath his legs as he both reached for the sky and clung to the Wookie’s fur for balance…  
   
Han’s hand over his, carefully showing him the Falcon’s finicky controls, letting go and allowing him to fly for the first time…  
   
Leia’s warm embrace, gentle hands stroking his hair as he cried…  
   
Luke’s quiet voice, trying to explain something that he didn’t want to hear…  
   
A lightsaber in the night, fear and panic and heartbreak.  
   
Ben surged to his feet, desperate to stop the flood.  She had done this, she had broken him open and left him alone again in the dark.   
   
Rey!  He broke down the walls between them, reaching desperately out into the Force to find her.

Ben thundered into her mind, followed by the shards of memory that haunted him.

Rey ripped herself upright, displacing the heavy, sleepy arms that had been holding her, and found Ben there, panicked, in the room. He shuddered, enormous hands clenched in his hair, pacing like a caged animal. The turmoil in him was intense, tearing through him—and now her—like the gravity in a black hole. Grief, and sorrow—the cracks had broken open, and now he needed her. He needed her to hold him together.

Poe made a confused noise behind her, but Rey barely heard it. She snagged the knitted blanket and drew it around her, slumping out of bed with her muscles still rubbery from sex. She crossing to Ben, reached for him. “Ben?”

Sitting up in confusion, Poe rubbed his eyes, cold air raising goosebumps along his arms as Rey was suddenly gone from his side.  "Ace?"  He called after her, sensing something was wrong.

Without even thinking, Ben reached back, folding her into his arms and clinging to her for shelter from the storm.  He was shaking, and her presence served to soothe the storm in his mind.  His knees gave way and he pulled her down with him, burying his face in her hair.  He didn't even know what he needed or wanted from her as tension locked in his limbs.  His breath dragged from him in rough gasps, almost sobs though no tears came.  He had none, had forgotten how to cry.  "Help me..."  He managed, not knowing how she could.

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Rey said, not sure if she were talking to Ben or Poe. Panicked, she slid one arm around Ben’s back, the other clutching at the blanket. Now that Ben’s massive arms were crushing her to him, the knitted resistance blanket—one she recognized from Poe’s old bunk—was proving inadequate coverage. The split of it over her leg, the way it wanted to just slide open and expose her against his dark shirt. She could feel his hands touching skin through the knit.

“Shh,” she said, and glanced back as a shuffle from the bed told her Poe was getting up. Of course he was getting up—she’d ripped out of his arms, and now she was kneeling on his floor, half wrapped in a blanket, shushing an invisible man.

Ben's memories still tangled at light speed, and though he tried to find the old paths he had followed to lock them away they refused to cooperate.  One marched accusingly to the front of his mind--Han's hand against his skin, trust and regret in eyes that were older than he remembered.  It hadn't felt like a choice, at the time.  It had felt beyond his control, and he had used that excuse to rationalize his actions.  But now he felt again the lightsaber in his hands, the resistance of...  He was shaking harder, unable to deal with the guilt he had been determined not to face.

Rey was warm against him, the scent of a foreign world in her hair.  They were alone in darkness, whatever vista surrounded her outside his ability to see.  But none of that mattered, all that he needed was in his arms, though there was a defensiveness in her that created distance between them.  He didn't want distance, he wanted her.

Rey stroked his back with one hand, swallowing hard. She took a chance with the blanket—Ben had her caught too tight for it to really fall much—and lifted the other to wave off Poe, who was already making a worried step toward her. She had explained to him about the Visitations. She just hadn’t ever thought _this_ would happen. Hell, if she’d known that, she could have at least put something on. But what if he’d shown up an hour ago, when stopping would have been impossible, and there would have been no good explanation for what was going on except...exactly what was going on.

“Ben,” she whispered. “Ben, it’s okay. It’s—“ He shifted his grip on her, trying to pull her closer to him, now that the resistance of her arm between them was gone. The words squeaked off as she felt the blanket slip, and fumbled to catch it and tuck it back in place. She could feel the heat of his chest through the single layer of fabric between them, the desperation in his powerful hands as he clutched at her like an anchor in the raging ocean threatening to capsize him. She caught his hair in her hand and pressed her forehead to his, forcing him to look at her. “Ben. Breathe. It’s over. Shh, it’s over.”

He met her gaze, pain written clearly in his features.  "I can't stop seeing them..."  He gasped, focusing on her in desperation.  "I can't-" He broke off, hands stilling as they fisted in the fabric of the thin blanket that wrapped around her bare shoulders.

He froze, taking in what he had missed before, the warm flush to her cheeks, the anxiety that rippled under the surface of her mind.  Her skin was warm under his hands where the blanket was too small to cover her completely.  Shock rippled through him, memories fracturing apart as he saw her eyes widen.  Anger flashed hot in his chest and he pushed her away, struggling to his feet and stepping back.  "Where are you?"  He demanded, pain blending with the fury he couldn't yet put words to.  "Who are you with?"  Not even waiting for an answer he severed the connection completely, slamming closed the doors between them and flinging himself back through the Force to the dark silence of The Betrayal.

Rey fell back, fear sharp in her chest as she flinched at his sudden fury.

Fury she had not expected. Fury that felt raw and shocked and... betrayed. She sucked in a breath to say something, but he was gone, and a whole world of panic crashed through her. He was gone. She couldn’t go after him. She was supposed to be there for him when this happened, and she wasn’t—not in person—and when he’d reached to her for help... this.

She struggled to her feet, breaths sharp, and fought the desire to run straight back to the Falcon and race back to where she’d left Ben on the Betrayal.

“Damn,” she said, covering her face with a hand, as if it could block out the memory of what had just happened. “Shit, shit, shit.”

She could sense Poe behind her, and she was too afraid to turn around. He was a smart man, and there was no way he hadn’t figured out what had just happened. What if he was angry? Kylo Ren had just been inside his bedroom because of her. He hadn’t seen it, but it had happened. And it was her fault.

She couldn’t stand the idea of shattering two friendships in one night. She gathered the blanket around her. “I’m so sorry, Poe,” she said, her voice thick and ragged with distress. “I’m so sorry.”

Moving around to face her, Poe took her face in his hands and lifted it towards his own.  Shame and guilt was written clearly in her eyes, and she was close to tears.  "Hey, it's okay..."  He drew her close, hugging her tightly.  It had been almost surreal, seeing her interact with nothing at all, but clearly something had gone horribly wrong.  He rested a hand on the back of her head and stroked her hair gently, pushing his disquiet aside to be discussed another time.  "It's okay, Ace.  Are you alright?"

“No,” she answered honestly, winding her arms around him like a lifeline. Like Ben had tried to do with her. She tilted her head down, resting her forehead against his chin. “I think something really horrible just happened. He...did not seem prepared for me to be...well, for the evidence that I was...with someone.”

A creeping sense of guilt crawled up her back. She hadn’t really thought about it in the front of her mind, what exactly it was that Ben Solo felt for her. She hadn’t wanted to think about it. But part of her had known that, whatever it was he felt, he would not want to know she was sleeping with someone else.

It was part of why she’d avoided talking about her friends at home. Too much talk, and she would mention Poe. If she mentioned Poe, there was every chance he’d remember the name and ask questions that would lead to thoughts that would give her away.

She hadn’t wanted Ben to know about Poe, because somewhere deep down, beneath the superficial understanding of their relationship, she knew that Ben would not handle it well. Because Ben’s flaws were what they were, and one of those flaws was possessiveness. And he’d wanted her from the start. Wanted to keep her, to teach her, to turn her and rule beside her.

She recalled his hands on her face, the way he leaned in and submitted to her tying his hair back. He’d walked through a sandstorm for her. He’d killed Snoke for her. He’d given up everything he’d taken power of so he would not have to kill her.

So there was every possibility that Ben Solo might be in love with her. And that she’d just inadvertently broken his heart.

***

The ship was dark but for the faint glow of standby lights along the control panel.  Ben's breathing was the only sound in the air, ragged and sharp as he sat frozen in the silence.  His emotions tangled inside him, fluctuating faster than he could process or even identify.  Gone were the ghosts of earlier, erased in a storm of shock and anger.  The guilt in Rey's eyes as he had pulled away was imprinted in his mind, hanging over his memories of her, darkening them.  She had known, she had known how he would take this and she had run to her lover's arms and tried to keep her secrets safe from him. 

Pain was lancing through his chest, making it hard to breathe as his heartbeat drummed in his ears.  Pain and fury, his temper lashing out uselessly into the emptiness around him.  With a wordless scream he surged to his feet, arm lashing out to empty the small bunk of the supplies stacked over the compartment.  They crashed across the floor as the noise broke a dam free in him, needing the violence as an outlet for emotions that were too intense for him to hold in the constraints of his body.  The Force leapt into him, a dark storm that hungered and sang as he made no effort to refuse it.  He needed the darkness, it was familiar and it bent easily to his will.  

Rey was no different from all the others!  Making promises, caring when it suited her and leaving when it did not.  She was supposed to be different, to be his.

With fists and Force he battered at the ship's unresisting walls, the physical pain grounding him in the reality around him.  It was sharp and clear, knuckles bruising, skin splitting as his blood streaked the metal and gave him something to focus upon.  Physical pain was bright and uncomplicated, and he fixated on it as warning lights flashed across the wounded ship's controls. He resented their intrusion, the reminder that his control was gone.  Lightsaber streaking to his hand he lashed out at the taunting lights, sparks flying up around him.

The rage and violence worked through him, burning out as quickly as it had ignited, and Ben collapsed to his knees in the dark and ruined interior of the Betrayal, shaking uncontrollably.  He was suddenly empty, cold creeping into the corners of his mind where heat had so recently burned.  The aching in his chest was fading into nothingness, and only the crystal clear pain in his hands remained, simple and uncomplicated.  

He lost track of time in the darkness, building himself back up from the foundations.  Layers of ice, locks and walls to keep everything where it should be.  Ordered, neat, clinical.  He was tired, so tired of being hurt...  it could not happen again.  The only thing left to cling to was the promise he had made to Anakin, and so he used it as an anchor against the Dark side that howled in frustration at how close he had come to turning back.   Gathering himself from the floor of the ship he left it all behind, taking only what he needed.

For a moment he considered the small communicator that held Rey's shared frequency, then tucked it into a pocket of his jacket.  He still needed her to do the work that needed to be done, and using people came easily to him.  Rey could still be used.


	21. 113 Porgs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! Here’s a bit more...

The next morning, pain was a dull, empty throb in Rey’s mind. Normally, she’d have carefully shed Poe’s arms and crept into her clothes, but today...

She couldn’t bring herself to leave just yet. Not for a little while longer. Because once she left Poe’s arms, his bed, his estate, she’d have to face down the knowledge that her visit home was over. Maybe there was a report she’d need to fill out before she left, and she’d have to hunt down Finn and Rose and Chewie to say goodbye, but...she couldn’t stay.

Ben was out there, and she couldn’t reach him through the Force. He was hurt, and her anxieties told her that he was not safe alone, hurt, and angry at the other end of the galaxy. There was no telling what he might do, so she had to go. Even if he wanted to hate her for this, she wouldn’t let him.

There had been no promises between them. There had been, she told herself, no desire on her part. Aside from one moment when she’d wanted to kiss him.

More than one moment. But that couldn’t have been anything but her body telling her it was ready, and her heart telling her she missed home. Still, she had to go to Ben and put things right. Even if that meant shaking him and telling him firmly that she could sleep with whomever she wanted. In fact, so could he.

She turned over in Poe’s arms, letting her hand creep up the dark curls on his chest. She brushed her knuckles along his jaw and stretched to kiss his chin and cheek until he woke.

Poe always slept better when he was not alone, and Poe turned his face to kiss her back as he slowly woke.  Each of his lovers felt different in the slow light of morning, each with different comforts and different needs.  But this morning Rey was not herself, and he could feel the anxiety under her skin.  He wrapped an arm around her, holding her close, knowing she would be gone sooner than he liked.  

The moment of chaos the night before had done little to allay his worries about her situation, but it also seemed like something he needed to let go.  At least until she was ready to talk.  He couldn't hide the fact that it had made him very uncomfortable, knowing about her connection to Kylo Ren and seeing it firsthand--and naked-- had been two very different things.

Slowly sitting up he pulled her with him, the sun reflecting through the windows across the lake.

“Will you be going today?"  He asked quietly, brushing tangled hair back behind her ears.

“I think I have to,” she said. “I know everyone planned on me being here at least a few days, but...” She sighed and leaned into his shoulder, kissing the tan skin that was now soaking in the sunlight. He was always so gorgeous in the morning, it was a little unfair. No one should be allowed to look that good with a sleep-swollen face. She sighed, and slid her arms around him for another hug. “I can’t do anything from here. I’ll ping you before I actually take off.”

***

Finn and Rose were devastated, and Chewie—still refusing to come—gave her a one-armed Wookie hug.

“You’d tell me if you ever wanted to adopt, right?” Rey said into his tangled fur. Chewie gave such a lengthy response that she almost laughed. “Okay, well. I might know someone,” she said. Then she turned to Poe, jogging up from the direction of the temporary senate building.

Her eyebrows shot up at the sight of the navy blue uniform, with its clean lines and heavy medals of state and service. There was something that might have been a paler blue half-cape tucked under his arm.

“I know,” he said, scooping her against him without breaking stride. “Shut up. It’s work.” She took his face in her hands, relieved and grateful for his humor, and his understanding, and the solid friendship she still felt ringing between them. So, even though they stood in front of Rose and Finn and Chewie, she kissed him. It wasn’t as if their affair was a secret, or that they hadn’t kissed in front of others before, but they also didn’t tend to parade it around, especially in front of Finn, who didn’t understand why the two of them weren’t married.

“I’ll keep in communication,” she said, when she pulled away. “If I need help, I’ll write something about porgs. Oh, and the rescue kids—there’s a Wookie girl named Sarissa, and I think Chewie might actually be serious about wanting to adopt her. Find out if he is?”

Then, as swiftly as she had arrived, she took off. Her chest ached as the figures on the landing pad got smaller and smaller, wishing she never had to leave them.

Once she’d Plutted her course and set the nav computer calculating her jump to hyperspace, she sent out a message to Ben.

>>Coming back. Don’t leave. I’ll hunt you down, remember?

Ben's reply was terse, direct, and surprisingly prompt.

>>Not there. Find port near Aurelia, not on world. Will pick you up.

Rey’s brows drew tight, and she was just beginning to wrap her mind around the words when the nav computer beeped its readiness. She swatted it, clearing the hard-won numbers. Aurelia? Where in the known galaxy was that? She’d vaguely heard the name, but she couldn’t remember where or why or in what context.

She leapt onto the holostreams, poking around for information, and plugged the star system’s location into the nav before diving back into pictures of a purple sky, veiled in magnetic gold, and tourist activities that included netting endangered, force-sensitive fish, walking down the thoroughfare of a thousand palaces, shopping in some of the galaxy’s most exquisite haute boutiques, and staying in a magnificent hotel constructed entirely from Alderaanian rubble.

Why the hell would Ben want to go somewhere like that? What was in Aurelia?

Well, there was only one way to find out, and hopefully, she could sooth Ben’s tangled emotions. Maybe if she told him Poe was just a friend... No. That might not be any better. And really, she didn’t owe Ben an explanation. She didn’t owe him anything, except being there, and helping him. Those were the things she’d promised to do, and no hollow ache in her heart would convince her otherwise.

Frowning, Rey waited for the nav computer to give her the jump, programmed it in, and shot into lightspeed.

***

Ben hadn't returned to the Betrayal since the night he had stormed out, and he knew without having to check that she was currently in no shape to fly.  Renting a short-jump luxury shuttle, he set a course for the small tourist moon that Rey indicated she had chosen for the Falcon's docking. 

The flight out took a little over an hour, and Ben spent most of it deep in thought, watching the stars pass by.  He opened and closed his fingers, purposefully testing the pain in his bandaged hands as he turned the idea of meeting her again over in his mind, examining it like an unfamiliar object.  He was distantly surprised that the thought bothered him less than he had expected.  Really it affected him barely at all, his emotions tightly packed away.  

As the shuttle slid quietly into port he moved automatically through the landing procedures, seeing the familiar lines of the falcon at the far end of the bay.  He lowered the shuttles ramp and sent his berth number to Rey's communicator, opening the shuttle’s door to wait for her.

Trepidation dogged every step Rey took toward the berth. She scanned the people milling around the shuttles and found herself surprised to note that they were all uniformed. Not the same uniform, either, so it clearly wasn’t a dock for local military. And these weren’t military ships anyway—they were private, expensive, and large enough to disgorge at least three transports apiece. Star liners?

Rey peered at them, watching the crews scurrying about their tasks and the glittering passengers gliding sedately along the quickbelts toward the spiky metal station. The porgs were going to die of excitement at the sight of all those wires.

She expected to find the Betrayal, and was surprised to find a different ship of some chromatic black. But she felt him on board, and the ramp was lowered like an open, extended palm.

Rey swallowed, and ascended into the ship, muscles ready to fight or soothe if she had to.

The main cabin of the shuttle was defined by elegance, the dark bucket seats deep and comfortable.  Though the pilot's controls were accessible from one of them, they were simplified and designed for the automated ship's systems to do the heavy lifting, so that its passengers could enjoy the ride.  Ben turned to face her as she entered, almost expecting her to look different somehow, but she was the same Rey, except for the anxiety he felt coming off of her in waves.  

He nodded briefly to her, looking her over.  The plain clothes she always wore would never do on Aurelia's surface, that was something that would have to be fixed as soon as they landed.  "Welcome back."  He greeted her cooly.

She startled at the sight of him. Black curls, pale skin, and he was wearing...

The black suit was cut from something far more finished than he’d worn when he’d called himself Kylo Ren. The fabrics were weightier, the belt more ornately textured, and there wasn’t a single unfinished seam. But the shape of it was too close, and the color of it—black as deepest, starless universe. With the exception of a single contrast layer of pure white beneath the velvety tunic coat, he looked suspiciously like Kylo Ren again.

“Hello, Ben,” she said, and tried to dredge up something else. She refused to apologize, not yet. Not like this. It didn’t feel quite safe enough yet to drag out the stinking, festering thing between them. “Why are we heading to Aurelia? Is someone hiding there?”

Sliding back into the pilot's chair, Ben sent out the departure requests to the port authority as Rey settled uncomfortably into the chair beside his.

"The First Order is being funded."  He stated, hands moving over the controls.  "That's how they've managed to keep their structure somewhat intact.  I haven't found who or how, yet, but I know that money is moving off of Aurelia into First Order hands."  

The shuttled lifted quietly off, and turned to make the return trip.  "I've set us up on world."  He passed her a small datachip. “And I had an identity crafted for you.  It's all on there."  He paused, regretting the decisions he had made when he had first arrived. "We're here for our honeymoon."

Rey blinked at him, datachip cool and taunting in her fingers. “Our...” she leaned back in the chair, which was far too comfortable and far too distant from the far too simplified controls.

Their honeymoon? He had crafted them identities as a honeymooning couple heading to Aurelia? Why had he done that? _When_ had he done that? Before or after he’d Visited and found her naked in the bed of another man? Was he punishing her, or proving a point?

No. He wasn’t. There was a feeling of sulky misery coming off him, like he’d rather not have told her anything. “So...we’re supposed to be... Just married. And on Aurelia. Doing...what? How are we meant to find out which one of the absurdly rich people on this planet is giving absurd amounts of money to the First Order?”

She looked around the interior of the ship. “For that matter, how are you affording this?”

"Well, we find out by offering to give our own absurd amount of money to the First Order."  He looked at her sideways, morbidly enjoying her dismay.  "Information is its own currency here, where no one really uses their true identity and funds are all untraceable.  I've been looking into things, and if we can get into the right events, we may be able to make contact with other First Order supporters."

He leaned back in his chair, swiveling it back to face hers completely, and crossing his arms over his chest.  

"And did you really think I would have left my accounts somewhere the Alliance could have traced them and cleaned them out?"  He snorted.  "I was Supreme Leader, Rey.  I inherited Snoke's wealth and added my own.  A few of these absurdly rich people probably contributed to that before our leadership was destroyed."

Rey blinked rapidly a few times, mentally reshuffling a few facts in her head. She’d never really thought about money. On Jakku, work was done for food and shelter and not dying. Since she left the planet, she hadn’t really needed it. Everything she’d done was supported by the Resistance. Her food, her clothes, the even credit chip she used to refuel the Falcon. She’d never considered the fact that she should or could be paid. Being paid was something that people with jobs did, and she didn’t really have a job. Not like Poe, or Finn, or Rose had a job.

How did Jedi get paid? What sort of professions were available to people who could use their minds to lift rocks?

But it made sense that Ben had money. After all, Leia had been a senator, and Han—before he’d gone back to smuggling—had worked with pilots in the New Republic navy. They’d had a nice home on Chandrila, and a young Ben had wanted for nothing. Except, perhaps, a little more time with his parents. As a Jedi Apprentice, he’d have been cared for by the temple, with his parents still on the other end of a comm. Then he’d joined the First Order—another institution that had taken care of him, and likely bankrolled anything he needed or wanted, especially when he’d risen to the height of Snoke’s top enforcer.

Of course he’d been paid for that. Of course he’d created accounts where no one could find the savings he’d kept. No wonder running had been so simple for him. The First Order had practically funded his escape.

At least now it meant they were going to do something about it, which gave them both the perfect distraction from talking about anything that had happened. Ben’s defenses were back up, just as strong as they’d been before she came to him the first time. She gave him his space, wondering just how far he’d backslid.

Rey plugged the chip into her data pad and read through the information, biting at her lip.

“So we’re going to an auction,” she said, “and bidding ridiculous amounts on this piece of space trash, hoping that will catch the eye of someone in the First Order, who will get us an invitation to a banquet, where we’ll give more money, get another invitation, and so on until we get to whoever is controlling the funding?”

"Basically, yes."  Ben agreed, watching her reorganize her worldview slowly.  "But first, we're going shopping."  He raked his eyes over her, sighing.  "You'll stand out like a Jawa underwater in those clothes.  And get used to our new names, get used to using them in public."

“What’s... I-“ she glanced down at the data chip. “We have new names,” she said, appreciating the fact for the first time. “What are our new names?”

"Leyto and Sana Tahn.  Wealthy second son of senators killed on the core worlds.  No responsibilities, extravagant lifestyle, enjoys throwing money around and losing it gambling.  Makes more with investments through old family connections.  Met a girl working the tables from a planet no one has ever heard of, whirlwind romance, secret wedding.  It will help cover your lack of social graces."  He smirked.  "Leyto wants the chance to dress her up and show her off."

He had to admit, he was still enjoying this more than he had expected.  When he had planned out their story he had been uncomfortable with it, but looking forward to the excuse to force Rey to enjoy herself.  Now it made an excellent excuse to torture her.

Rey felt the vengeful satisfaction simmering off of him and contented herself with an eye roll. “He should have picked a different girl,” she said. Then, to jab back a bit, “I don’t have much to show off, as you’ve discovered.”

Ben's expression tightened, but he shrugged calmly.  "Well, there's no accounting for taste."  He spun his chair back to face out the windows, watching the planet slowly widen across the view.  Out of her sight he clenched one fist, the bandages hidden under his gloves tightening over his injured hands as he let the twinge of pain settle his spiking emotions back into place. 

He brought the small shuttle down into the private bay that housed the Betrayal, it would have to serve instead for any trips they needed to make while they were here.  He reminded himself to find a well-recommended mechanic to take a look at the dark ship's interior.


	22. 135 Porgs

They took a private speeder to one of the hillside residential districts, where Ben had rented out a small--by Aurelian standards--villa.  It was a tumble of walkways and balconies, each overlooking the crystalline city below.  On one side of the building, a sheer drop under the decking fell over a hundred meters down to the surface of one winding canal, lit by floating lanterns and the slow movement of silver gondolas.  Ben stopped them at the door, taking a moment to calibrate the locks to Rey's hand-print and face as well, before herding her inside.  "Settle in wherever you like, and stow your things."  

Despite his need to keep his distance from her, it was hard not to enjoy the wide-eyed wonder with which she regarded everything around her.  

"Then we can go shopping."

The villa was incredible. Furnished and welcoming in all the ways that hadn’t been true of the big empty estate Poe hated so much. It had small rooms, heaped with blankets and carpeted with rugs that seemed to mold around her foot with each step. She dropped her satchel on the chair in the smallest corner room and turned in a circle, impressed and confused by the silky fabric on the walls, the chips of rainbow cast from the glittering fixtures, and how snug and well-thought out it all seemed. She hadn’t realized luxury and coziness could cohabitate.

An hour later, once she’d spent time in the refresher trying all the different buttons (and re-showering twice after her explorations doused her in alien pheromones) she was in the sleek speeder with Ben.

“Explain again why we have to go shopping for something for me to go shopping in,” Rey said. “I know I can’t wear this to one of the fancy events, but it’s just...shopping.”

"Because at the moment they won't even let you in the shops we need to be in."  He sighed.  "So we start somewhere simple.  Get you basic things to wear that won't make people stare at you for all the wrong reasons."  He held back his next thought, that it wouldn't be difficult to get them to stare at her for all the right reasons.

"Also, we will hold off on the next round until we know which events we need to attend.  For the auction you'll need something classic, expensive, and understated."

It was satisfying to surprise her with skills she probably had assumed he lacked.  Jedi apprentice and warlord hardly screamed high society.

Rey frowned, leaning back in the speeder as they streaked down the canal, shooting twin banners of water out behind them. She’d find a way to bully him out of the driver’s seat before the night was out—the poor thing’s engine was purring with the desire to open up and go faster.

The first set of streets they walked through contained mostly cafes, and Rey had to admit that she wasn’t dressed half as well as one of the people sweeping up a trash area. She didn’t mean to walk close to Ben, but his height seemed to draw her in, like he could loom over her and cast a shadow that would block her from the strange, sneering looks cast her way by all manner of aliens.

She was intrigued by the food, of course. They turned a corner just as a massive, blood-red jelly creation shaped like a castle erupted in flames. The jelly oozed away, dripping off the fluted sides into tiny glass cups, where it pooled, flaming. Underneath the jelly stood a statue of a hundred different people, twined together in an extremely indecent embrace that left no orifice unfilled by some kind of humanoid or alien appendage. She stopped to stare, tilting her head in shock as a stuffy looking waiter calmly tapped the thing with the back of a spoon, shattering it into a thousand tiny shards.

Beneath that, was a third creation. And beneath that...

Ben had to backtrack a few steps as he noticed that Rey had stopped, mesmerized by the dining show.  He glanced at the tiny crystalline cakes that had been revealed under layers of theater, each held within a small liquid sphere of Aurelian liqueur.  He sighed, taking her arm and looping it through his own both to keep up appearances and to steer her.  

"Try not to stare at entirely everything."  He cautioned softly, body stiff against hers.  "not everyone here wants to be noticed."

Finding a small ladies boutique, he led her inside, the doors swishing open with tiny musical chiming.  A petite Twilek sashayed up to them, her gaze looking Rey over with a mixture of curiosity and horror.  

"Can I help you?"  She asked politely, directing her words to Ben.

"I certainly hope so," he replied smoothly, pushing Rey forward a step.  "My wife has never been on world before, and as you can see, we need some... assistance."

The Twilek’s smile was hitched politely in place, but her eyes gleamed with horror. “I am certainly happy to assist. Sir, would you care to wait in the lounge, or would you prefer to...” she touched a limp lock of Rey’s hair and drew her hand away, flicking it surreptitiously “...be a part of the decision making process?”

Meanwhile, Rey was looking around at the boutique, which seemed to be something of a hybrid of massive, overwrought parlor and gilded closet. She didn’t even recognize what some of the fabric shapes on hangers were supposed to be.

“Is that meant to go on a person?” She asked, looking at something that was either a blouse or a many-appendaged sea creature devouring a mannequin from the left breast. The right one was cupped in a metallic band that seemed to smash it slightly flat. “I’m not wearing something like that.”

The Twilek drew back, her lekku quivering in offense. “That is a Thltcha G’Hghrngt original design! You should be so fortunate.” She turned back to Ben with a look of pity. “I begin to see your plight, sir.”

Ben sighed, nodding. "Of course I will want to be involved." he rested a protective hand on Rey's shoulder. "we're looking for something... Elegant. Day wear...." he moved away, gloved fingers lightly running down the sleeve of a pale green blouse with slits that ran from the shoulders to wide silver cuffs that sparkled with tiny facets etched into the metal. "Something like this?" 

The Twilek took a dramatic half-step back, fluttering her crystal-studded lashes up at Ben with a slightly coy smile. “Oh my,” she said, placing a petite hand on Ben’s forearm. “A man with taste. Very well, I am more than happy to polish up this rough little diamond.”

Rey would have liked to punch her in the face, but the Twilek gave a dancerly whirl and slunk up a set of plush, carpeted stairs toward a side room, crooking her finger back at them.

“I am not going to wear anything that resembles a sea creature,” she said, shrugging off Ben’s hand. “I don’t care if it was designed by someone whose name has no vowels.” She glared up at him. She felt like a stain in this shop. A target for the eyes of every shop attendant and person walking by. She didn’t care what they thought, or she shouldn’t have. In any normal day, she wouldn’t have even noticed, but right now...

Right now she wanted to shrink. She wanted to crawl into some tight, safe space until there were no people left in the streets, and then she would run back to...where? The Falcon wasn’t on world. She didn’t know the address for the compact little villa. She was trapped here, among all these people pitying and laughing at her. None of them knew her! They didn’t know what she could do! Yet their contempt was palpable.

She’d never been embarrassed about what she was—it had always just been a fact, even when she’d asked her friends to define terms and identify foods that seemed utterly common. Her value to them had always been in who she was, and what she could do. Never in what she wore, or how she looked, or whether she knew the difference between aquatic horrors and fashion.

She stepped back, letting Ben take the lead up the stairs, and kept close in his shadow, wishing she could disappear into it.

Ben shuddered. "Fuck no. The last thing we need you looking like is some underwater sex monster's dinner." He eyes the monstrosity.  "There's a difference between looking well dressed and looking ridiculous just because you paid more."

He looked down at her, feeling the embarrassment and frustration radiating off of her. For a moment he wanted to put an arm around her shoulders, tell her to trust him. He ached to feel the connection they had shared in the stupid dirty hovel in the desert.

But that was gone, lost in the warm flush of her bare skin and the scent of another in her hair. He reflexively clenched a fist, turning away and leading her up the stairs.

They followed the Twilek woman into a small room surrounded by mirrors, where she waved Rey up to a pedestal and placed a solicitous hand on Ben’s arm and gestured to a bench. When he sat, the hairpin legs bowed ominously—Rey had the impression its usual occupants were quite a bit daintier.

The Twilek woman bent over a basket by one of the mirrors, rooting around for something. The sheer cowl draped over her upper body barely hid her generous chest, and the strategically-placed gems did nothing to disguise the shapely posterior she aimed in Ben’s direction. Rey had to admit, it was displayed to luscious effect: the woman’s trousers were so tight she might have been vacuum sealed into them. She rose, flicking her head tails back and drawing out the measuring tape with a sensuous stroke, like it was a whip she were about to attack Rey with.

“Ogiya, Tika!” The Twilek called. Rey heard footsteps, and one of the mirrors pushed open, revealing two more shop attendants, who emerged from a hallway. They stopped short at the sight of Rey, and even the furry one—who didn’t even appear to wear clothes, aside from a bit of paint on her horns—looked at the Twilek in disbelief.

“I want the Gorothi line. Let’s see, brown hair. Do you want it to stay brown?” The Twilek asked Ben.

“It’s staying brown,” Rey growled. Her hands clenched into fists. The Twilek lifted a single, unimpressed eyebrow at her.

“Hmm,” she said dubiously. “Let’s try jewel tones first. Something with a little...” she dragged her gaze up and down Rey’s body “...lift?”

Ben frowned, not sure he was entirely pleased with the direction being suggested.  But then that was the point, to not be themselves.  Perhaps Rey needed a little reminding of that.  An excuse to step away from her indignation and play a role.  

"Come now, Sana," Ben said as warmly as he could, which he hoped was enough to fool the others.  "You always said you wanted a few pretty things."  He looked at the shop girl with a smile that didn't reach his eyes.  "But no skirts for now, beautiful and functional."  He glanced back at Rey's darkening face.  "We'll worry about dresses another day."

“Functional,” the Twilek said, drawing out the word with a wink. She whipped her measuring tape around Rey’s chest and smirked. “Got it. Ogiya, get the pink top—It’ll minimize her shoulders and kind of help out with,” she waved her hands around at Rey’s chest, “this situation.”

Rey’s eyebrows drew together. What exactly was a situation in that area? She glanced up at Ben, but he wasn’t watching. He was looking at the basket, fidgeting with his hands in a very un-Benlike way.

The measuring tape slithered around Rey’s waist, chittering out numbers that made little sense. “Lots of muscle there, huh?” The Twilek said. “Some boys like ‘em tight, I guess, though I find it’s a little hard to get silk to lay right over abs. Hmm, Tika? Cancel the silk pants. I think she’s too muscly. Maybe something a little more structured, give you a bit of a curve. That’d look better, don’t you agree, Mr. Tahn?”

"I think the silk pants would look lovely." Ben disagreed coolly, the woman's obvious insults irritating him. They were things that he would say, petty and hurtful and designed to wound. But hearing them from another and seeing the doubt on Rey's face angered him.

"Perhaps with a wide belt or sash?" They were things he had wanted to see her in, before everything. When this had been supposed to be... fun.   He wasn't sure how long he could keep this up, pretending to care for her when he no longer did. Pretending not to, when even looking at her still hurt.

The Twilek’s smile was professionally fake, though Rey saw the glint of irritation in her eyes as she glanced back up, waving off the two women now holding articles of clothing up to her.

“And I hate pink,” Rey added, glaring at the shirt, which was beautifully pleated and beaded, with large fanlike folds over the breast.

The Twilek leaned back, offense tinging her haughty smile. “If I might respectfully disagree, Miss Tahn, I-“

“Mrs.,” Rey said, staring straight into the mirror, into her own eyes. She had to ignore everything else, if she was going to get through this. “I’m his wife, not his sister. And I said I hate pink.”

The Twilek woman gave a disbelieving little laugh and glanced back at Ben, who was still massaging his hands. “I... see, Mrs. Tahn. Of course.” She turned on a snap, sashaying past Ben and vanishing into the hallway behind the mirror.

Ben caught her gaze in the mirror, raising an eyebrow. His mind was clearer now, the pain always helped. 

"Nicely done." he said with a slight smirk. He opened his mouth to speak again when his communicator pinged and he read through it quickly with a frown slowly forming on his face. Uncoiling from the couch, he came to stand nearer. The platform on which she stood putter her closer to his level than he was accustomed to. 

"The auction has been moved up to tonight." he said quietly. "More details on the piece have been released, supposedly it’s art from the throne room of the First Order."  A strange discomfort twisted in his chest. Obviously it could not be, he had watched the fires burn as the Betrayal had left the atmosphere. But the possibility of something familiar, so tied to his past... It both excited and unnerved him.

"It makes sense. Collectors interested in such things may have potential as backers."

Rey leaned in a bit to see the snippet of news, glancing at the stiff way he was holding the data pad. There was definitely something going on—she hadn’t seen him in gloves for weeks before she left. He hadn’t taken them off since she’d been back.

“So, people don’t even know exactly what they’re bidding on until they show up?” she asked. “That seems like...such a waste of time. Why would anyone do that?”

Before he could answer, footsteps echoed from behind the mirrored door. Rey’s first instinct was to back away from Ben, but as the thought of the Twilek woman’s triumphant curl of a smile, she stepped forward instead, leaning into Ben and pressing her cheek to his. “What’s wrong with your hands?” she whispered, sliding one of her own down the soft fabric of his sleeve.

Ben stiffened, resisting the urge to pull away. "Nothing" he replied quietly, turning to kiss her temple as the Twilek walked back through the doorway.

Taking her hands in his, he gave them a soft squeeze to prove it before backing away and raising his voice. "Stop worrying, darling. You'll look beautiful in anything they put you in." He paused, then qualified, "Well, anything without tentacles." 

“I’ll still be beautiful,” she said, pretending she was talking to Finn, or Poe, or Rose. “Just covered in suction cups.”

The Twilek gave a sharp snort. “No tentacles here, Mrs. Tahn. I think this is going to be perfect.” She shook out the black fabric she was holding to reveal a set of slender black pants, a long robe of sheer black lace, and a wide black belt.

Rey eyed the sheer black lace robe, and searched the woman’s arms for any hint of extra fabric. “Something’s going under that, I hope,” she said.

“I thought it might be a bit daring for you just like this, yes,” the Twilek said. “The girls are bringing a few options. For now, let’s just get you undressed.”

Rey stiffened, and forced herself not to look over at Ben. It would be very strange if a wife were unwilling to undress in front of her husband, but she’d expected...a dressing room, like the ones in the shops where she’d gone with Finn and Rose—sunken little alcoves with thick curtains.

“O-okay,” she said. “Is there a screen or something.”

The Twilek waved her hand dismissively. “Nothing I don’t see eight hundred times a day, sweetie.”

Returning to his seat, Ben settled in, crossing one long leg over his knee and settling back. "and it's certainly nothing I haven't seen before." he challenged coolly, meeting her eyes.

Rey stared at him, not certain if he was honestly going to sit there and watch and expect her to undress. The Twilek woman offloaded the clothing onto one of her returning assistants and went for Rey’s belt.

“My, my, they learn how to have servants fast enough, don’t they,” she said. Manicured nails tugged at the sash and Rey wanted to refuse, but found herself unable to. Something cold had broken open in her chest, and it was pulsing slowly out through her arteries, stealing the warmth. One of the other girls tugged off the brown tunic, remarking on the fact that it didn’t even have a label. Rey felt a sort of...shock rippling up through her.

Ben was doing this to hurt her. He was doing this for revenge. He was going to sit there, and watch, and privately humiliate her. No one had ever seen her without clothes on except for Poe, and now she was being stripped in front of three strangers, and one man whose primary reason for staying was to hurt her.

Anger rose in her chest. She hadn’t done anything wrong. Sleeping with Poe hadn’t been wrong, and she’d had no control over the timing of Ben’s crisis, or she never would have told him. Poe had always made her feel safe first. No one else had ever touched her, or kissed her, or made her feel safe enough to let down the layers of guard she’d built while growing up alone on Jakku.

And before she’d left, before this whole disaster had happened, Ben had started to make her feel safe.

She turned her face away from him but found his reflection in every mirror. As the furry shop girl plucked at the waistband of her trousers, the other untying the strings on her thin lower tunic, she shut her eyes and clenched her fists, clinging to her pride.

He had wanted to hurt her, to throw his pain in her face and feel her break like he had broken. His anger had pulled something dark from him, and now it sat around his shoulders and whispered that she deserved this.

But this was Rey... and she was the purest thing in his life. Without her open and damnably frustrating goodness, she never would have drawn him in from the first moment he had met her. He had tried to hurt her then too, to break down that quiet strength and press her greatest fears, but she had fought back. She always fought back.

Now she stood there, and in the shaking of her body he saw that she had stopped fighting. Self-disgust rolled over him, and revulsion. Not like this.  If she was nothing to him, this was unnecessary. And if she was still something, still a magnet he could never break from, then he could not do this.  Not and ever forgive himself.

Standing suddenly, he turned away and waved the Twilek to his side and leaned to speak to her softly. "Sana isn't from a world like this one." He said quietly. Pitching his voice where hopefully Rey couldn't hear. "It will take her time to get used to our ways of doing things. Surely you have a private room for your more... sensitive guests?"

The Twilek smiled indulgently up at him, putting a hand on his arm. “Perhaps she’ll be more comfortable if we all step out? We could go into the back room?”

The Twilek woman gestured at her two minions. “Girls? Miss Tahn is apparently from a more prudish world than Aurelia—Mr. Tahn has requested we step into the back and allow her time to dress herself?”

Rey stood there, eyes cracking softly open as the footsteps all disappeared behind the mirrored door. The instant it closed, her knees buckled, and she collapsed down onto the side of the pedestal. Her shaking hands grabbed the half-open tunic and held it protectively closed. Humiliation and hurt expanded inside her, shuddering out in a soft series of breathy sobs and panicked gulps for air.

She shouldn’t have come back. It was too soon, and it hurt too much. Though nothing had really been exposed, she felt violated.

She hadn’t meant to hurt Ben. She’d had an entire life, which she’d interrupted to go find him, and perhaps their bond was something unique, and intimate, and undeniable...but it didn’t make her his. It didn’t make it his business who she slept with, or that she slept with anyone at all.

His Visitation had simply happened. There had been no maliciousness to it.

But this? Ben had hurt her. On purpose. And he’d come very close to doing something she couldn’t forgive. He’d ripped the armor straight off her body, and sharpened his pain into a dagger, and held it at her throat.

She debated pulling her own clothes back on and walking out. But there was a job to do, and she had a role to play, and maybe Ben hadn’t really known how badly this would hurt her. Maybe he thought she just went around sleeping with everyone in the Resistance, and this would be nothing.

Face and heart on fire, she summoned enough indignant anger to strip off the rest of her clothes and pull on the silk pants, a flesh-toned camisole, the lace robe, and the wide belt. There was no disguising the redness of her eyes or the blotchiness of her cheeks in the mirror, but she lifted her chin and called to the door. “I’m ready.”

Ben almost stayed outside, unsure if he could face her accusations. He had pushed too far, and even with the layers he had built between them, he could feel it trembling through their silent connection. It felt more fragile, more brittle than it had since Crait.  He also didn't like the idea of her being left alone at the mercy of the petite Twilek woman, who had been practically throwing herself at him while they gave Rey the space to change.

He couldn't deny that she was beautiful, body full and sensuous, her movements designed to leave a man wanting more. She had rested her hand on his arm, pressing close as she asked him about their stay on Aurelia. How was he finding the planet's food, entertainment, women. 

Her breasts had been soft against his arm, and he had stirred at her touch.  There had been others, there were always those who desired to be close to power, to share in its comforts.  They had come to him, and he had taken them without caring where they went in the night, as long as they were gone before he tired of them.  But that had been another lifetime ago, and suddenly the thought of waking up alone again after empty sex--no matter how good-- held no appeal.  

He had pushed her away, ignoring her pout of annoyance.  He knew the type, enjoying the chase of stealing someone away who was claimed by another.  But he was not claimed, and she was not who he wanted. 

Pushing back through the doors he stopped, wondering for a moment if it was really Rey. The lace jacket that covered her from throat to knees lengthened her body, and pale skin showed through the lace. The pants clung to her legs, hugging the muscles below.  Perhaps the Twilek saw them as a blemish, but Ben almost had to turn and walk away.  If not for the flush of recent tears on her face, Rey would have been a goddess. 

"it will do." he finally said, not wanting to betray himself. He clamped down hard on the guilt that cut at him, trying to find his earlier anger, but it was gone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has to get a bit worse before it gets better, right?


	23. 211 Porgs

They’d given her black boots, and worn her down about the heel until she relented to something around five centimeters. It was still taller than she would have liked, and she found herself tapping into the Force for balance as they exited the shop with her old clothes tucked away in a parcel.

The second they were out of sight, she pulled her arm from Ben’s, skin prickling where she’d been touching him. Betrayal still made nauseating ripples down her back, and she couldn’t decide if she wanted to hit him or not. What she really wanted, in a twisted, unreasonable, incongruous way, was to tuck herself into his arms and cry. His arms were strong, and his chest was warm, and even though he’d been the one to rip away her feeling of safety, he was also her only shelter in this place.

She veered away from him, heading straight for the first establishment that wasn’t the Twilek’s shop. She ripped open the door and ducked inside, immediately finding herself surrounded by a series of dark walls, studded with elaborate earrings. She blew past them, ignoring the shopkeeper’s greeting and offer of help, and arrowed for the back of the store, where she located a conveniently small alcove beneath a series of apocalyptic looking opal earrings.

Ben followed her, pausing just long enough to convince the shop owner that yes, they were going to buy something and no, nothing was wrong, his wife simply wasn't feeling well.  He slowed as he neared the impromptu hiding place she had found for herself, hesitating. They were the last people either of them needed to be around at the moment, but their situation didn't really allow for the distance they required.

He took up a post just outside the small space, half waiting, half guarding. He really wasn't sure which.

She stood there, leaning against the velvet, with silvery pins and gemstones prickling into her back, and counted her heartbeats. The shop’s air was cool against her feverish face, and Ben—having followed her—took up post with his back to her. Rey swallowed, sensing the insecurity in his presence. For some reason, that insecurity made it easier.

Rey breathed in, then let herself feel the sick, heavy wash of misery, all the way through her. She let it run its course, drawing more tears and hiccupping breaths from her before it began to subside, and she felt too wrung out to care that her face probably looked like it had been blasted by a Krayt dragon.

She rolled herself along the velvet wall cover and found Ben’s back, then leaned against it. Shaky fingers curled over the top of his wide leather belt, resting there tentatively.

“Can we stop this?” she asked, voice reedy. “We’re even now, please,  _please_  can we stop?”

Her weight against his back was familiar and warm, but the walls that he had built were too strong. He wasn't sure anymore if he could take them down, even if he wanted to, they were safe, and he was done being hurt by others.

"I went too far." he said quietly, though he did not move to face her, or to touch her. "But there is no 'even', Rey. Let's simply do what we do best. Let's stick to the mission we gave ourselves." He knew his voice was cold, but he had nothing more he was capable of offering her right now. 

"There's one more stop I need to make before this evening, one of my contacts recommended a good mechanic who won't ask questions." 

Rey took in the words, acknowledged the sting of them, and tried to let them go. He was right—they needed to forget everything but the mission. It had taken months to win each other’s trust before, and it was stupid to expect it back now, from either of them.

She sniffed a little and pushed away from his back, forcing herself to balance on the stupid heels. “What do you need a mechanic for?” she asked. “I’m right here.”

Ben struggled with the answer, finally giving up with a simple, "The Betrayal needs some work done."

Turning to face her, he didn't quite meet her eyes. "And I promised the shopkeeper we would buy something..." he shrugged and gestured around. "So find something you like."

Rey reached randomly over her head, extracted a massive earring from the wall, and dropped it into Ben’s hand without looking at it. “I can work on The Betrayal. At least then I’ll be doing something I have a damn clue about. Are we done? Or do I need to go stand on another pedestal to be inspected like a fathier mare?”

Ben sighed, looking down at the hideous rock in his hand. Setting it down he headed back toward the front of the shop, snagging a pair of delicate black crystals on the way. Paying for them, he dropped them into her hands as they left the shop.

"I'm not going to be able to talk you out of this, am I?" he sighed. "Fine, you can take a look at her, she likes you anyway." 

They didn't speak as the caught a shuttle to the spaceport, neither of them feeling particularly conversational. Ben watched the city go by, its bright lights dulled by the disaster of their day so far. When the taxi let them off he led the way to the isolated bay where the Betrayal hunched dejectedly in her berth, dark and quiet. It was the first time he had been back, and honestly he wasn't certain what state he had left her in.

They climbed aboard, and Rey...stopped. The panels on the wall were gouged and melted in lines, bits of wire trapped in the cooled metal. Any stick or button or display available for destruction had been smashed, or bent, or cracked. Globs of cooled metal spattered everything like blood.

It was a violent scene. And the emotion behind it lingered sharp and hard as steel. Betrayal, anger, and grief. Marked across the walls in vicious lightsaber streaks and consoles broken by angry fists. She saw flashes of it in her mind—his body hunched and angry as he wrecked the inside of his ship.

And there was no need to ask when it had happened.

Rey’s heart thundered in her chest, and she shook her head, pivoting slowly to face him. She snagged his hand, tugged at the finger of one glove, and drew it off.

Ben tried half-heartedly to pull away, but her grip was firm and he suddenly lacked the energy to resist. He didn't look at her, though seeing the scars on his ship was little better. As the glove came free the bandages beneath were revealed, somewhat awkwardly wrapped. He had been in no mood to be cared for, and had tended to them himself.

Rey breathed slowly, deliberately, and repeated the process with the other glove. She looked at his hands, purple with bruises, swollen and split and ugly. She felt the sudden, overwhelming need to either hug him or scream at him, but battled back the urge to do either.

“I can fix it,” she said, not sure if she was talking about the ship. “You take care of the auctions and the galas and the stupid rich-people stuff, and I’ll take care of this. And it’s a good thing you appear to be rich, too, because we’re going to need a lot of parts.”

He nodded, digging into a pocket and handing her a credit chip. "Buy what you need," he said quietly. He wanted to reach out to her, but there was so much between them now, distance and silence and pain. He didn't know how to cross the gap. "I'll make our arrangements, just be back before nightfall."

He paused, looking her over. "And don't get grease all over those... Please." 

She spent the rest of the day on the Betrayal, cataloging the needed parts and ordering them from the suppliers nearest to their port. The cost for the parts had enough zeroes to wrap around her wrist, and she eyed the credit chip apprehensively when she waved it across the datapad’s sensor, almost certain it would give her some kind of alert. But the purchase pinged an affirmative and gave her a delivery time for the following day.

There wasn’t much left to do before the auction, except eat and wriggle back into her stupid new clothes. She’d shucked the lacy robe and thick belt and small-animal-murdering boots and dragged on her own tunic. The new pants were comfortable enough, and as she wasn’t truly doing much mechanical work, it had seemed fine to leave them on.

She left the ship wearing the pants and flesh-colored camisole, and made her way down to the long promenade by the canal. The villa was one of many bright jewels on the cliff face across the water, and she wandered down the flagstone thoroughfare and lazily boarded a ferry to take her across. The sky was a reddening lavender and the first glimmers of golden aurora were just hinting at the dark bowl of the sky. The cool air felt good on her face.

It was strange and lonely, but oddly comforting to be totally anonymous on this little boat.

The ferry docked, and Rey walked up the switchbacks that climbed the side of the cliff beneath the villas. Shivering in the deepening night, she mounted the stairs, opened the door with her handprint, and went straight to her room. She was unprepared to find a tall, white droid in the middle of the carpet.

She gasped. “What-“

“Good evening, Mrs. Sana Tahn,” the droid greeted. “I am RD-1809, your automated beauty assistant. May I suggest a shower to begin?”

Rey stared at the thing, glanced back down the hallway, and debated screaming at Ben. Instead, she sighed, stepped into her room, and said, “Might as well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somewhere, a poor, unsuspecting moon base is being quietly invaded and taken over. By porgs.


	24. 52 Porgs (159 On the Moon)

Leaving Rey at the Betrayal, Ben spent the afternoon at the villa distracting himself with over-priced reports coming in from several of the planetary information brokers.  It was a puzzle, piecing together fragments of rumor, overheard whispers at extravagant parties, money that traded at random and disappeared into protected accounts.  It was easier not to think about Rey as long as he kept himself focused on the First Order, on bringing them down once and for all.  The Empire, the First Order, whatever power would try to rise next, such powers were a pervasive enemy that he could devote his life to rooting out and eliminating.  It would have to be enough.

He lost track of time when he heard her come in, moving through the outer rooms of the villa.  He heard the faint beeping of the droid that he had bought for her, hopefully the trim and polite machine would make it easier for her to settle in for the time they had to spend on Aurelia.  As long as Rey didn't disassemble it and sell off its parts in a fit of irritation.  It was an acceptable risk.

Breaking away from the small computer at which he had been working, Ben checked their buy-ins for the evening's auction.  It was billed as an auction for 'rare collectibles and artifacts', and among them were three pieces supposedly recovered from the ruins of the First Order's stronghold.  Looted, more like, if they were even legitimate at all.  It amazed him what collectors would buy to appease strange fascinations.  It was no wonder that powers like the First Order always seemed to have a foothold to rise from, with the elite's strange obsession with power and the morbid.  It had not escaped his notice that if he were at all so inclined, it would not be difficult to build it all back again, to start over.

He shoved down the thought, turning away and readying himself for the evening.  A small half-mask completed his attire, a token thing of dark gold latticework that was intended less to conceal than to invoke the spirit of concealment.  A thin veneer of anonymity that offered comfort to the rich and powerful while still allowing them to study one another and draw conclusions.

Sending out a request for a private shuttle to escort them, Ben moved out into the public area of the home and waited for Rey to finish her 'negotiations' with her new droid companion. 

“Ow, ow, OW!” Rey pulled her head away from the jabbing pin, only to thwack her temple against the droid’s curling iron appendage. She’d showered and allowed the thing to adjust her lace robe and cinch the belt and turn the sleeves just so.

The cosmetics were a bit harder to take. She’d expected only a slight tint to her lips and eyelashes, perhaps a bit of the lid shimmer she’d seen on other faces. Twenty minutes into the endeavor, Rey had realized her mistake, but it was too late to turn back. Now, with her face feeling five pounds heavier, she was chagrined to find that most of it would be covered by a stiff black mask that covered the top half of her face.

The intricate updo was the last straw. She battled the droid into something simpler, which still seemed to require about a million pins and three separate sizes of curling tong. Rey was beginning to feel half bionic.

“Your hair, Madam Tahn,” the droid said, and its oval face went reflective.

Rey’s nostrils flared. She certainly didn’t look like herself. The creature in the mirror was at once delicate and menacing, with all that dark liner—prettier than Rey had ever looked. She wasn’t sure it was worth the effort.

Still, she would have liked to show Finn and Rose and Poe. They’d have enjoyed it, in different ways. And their enjoyment might help her accept and like it more.

Rey put a hand over her chest, felt her heart pumping against her sternum. She was not herself. But maybe right now, that was a good thing.

Fitting her feet into the boots, Rey caught her balance, ignored the droid’s offer to pierce her ears for the appropriate accessories, pushed away the ribbons and feathers and tiny hats it offered, and stepped into the foyer to find Ben.

Ben opened his mouth to tell her about the auction details as he heard the door open, but forgot the words momentarily as Rey stepped out, annoyance darkening her face like a thundercloud.  The droid behind her was still attempting to pin odd baubles into her hair, though Rey was fending her off deftly.  

It was hard not to stare at her, but for a number of unexpected reasons.  She was beautiful, a version of Rey that he had never really considered before.  Be frowned, looking her over.  It was perfect, polished, elegant... and not like Rey at all.  Others would stare and admire, he knew.  They would wish they had half as lovely a woman on their arms... and yet Ben wanted to scrub half of it away and find the Rey beneath.  Simple, pure, Rey should glow with softer colors, not be elevated like a statue carved for other's pleasure.  

He searched for something to say to break the silence between them that hung as impenetrable as transparisteel, but nothing seemed appropriate.

"Our shuttle is outside."  He finally said distantly, finding he had nothing more to offer.

Rey managed to find the droid’s power switch and deactivate the blasted thing just as Ben approached. She turned, sensing the unwillingly offered arm, and paused. The half mask was absolutely nothing like the one he’d worn so long ago, as Kylo Ren, but it arrested her nonetheless.

He wore the same black velvet tunic and wide belt he’d worn out to the shops, but his hair had been carefully styled, and...

“Your scar...” she said, unable to help reaching up to where the scar should have made a puckered line down his face. It was gone. Or, at least, it looked gone. When her fingers contacted his cheek, she felt it there, a firm ridge against the skin of his cheek. The skin mimicking hologram fluttered over her fingertip. “That is... very useful,” she said.

She didn’t add that it was strange—that seeing him without the scar she had given him made her feel odd, as if the Ben she knew had reverted somehow to the creature in the mask she’d once feared. There was no mark of their fight, no physical evidence of anything they’d been through together.

She didn’t like it. He looked better with the scar.

It was hard not to react to her fingers on his skin. Either to pull away, or to lean into the into the soft touch. Rey was a weakness, but if there was anything that Ben had learned it was how to ignore his weaknesses. He hoped that skill would continue to serve him well.

The shuttle ride to the auction house seemed infinite as silence hovered between them. The city passed by in an ever-changing stream of brilliance, towers of golden light piercing into the sky, hovercraft full of bejeweled inhabitants tracing past them on all sides. The canals were lit with sparkling floating lanterns, crystals embedded on the exterior sending sparkling shards out across the water. It was easy enough to look through the windows and try to ignore the discomfort that settled heavily between them.

The great gates to the auction house parted before the shuttle, and they joined the line of expensive vehicles slowly discharging their passengers at the base of the wide silver steps that led up to the auction estate. Though a few bare faces graced the crowd, many wore small token masks to embrace the characters they wished to display to the world. Stepping down from the shuttle, Ben held out an arm politely, and though Rey took it, there was tension in her fingers through the fabric of his sleeve, and her body was stiff next to his.

As they moved up the stairs and into the auction house proper, Ben took stock of those around them wondering who else was there on First Order business. Tall tables filled with small and intricate delicacies were spaced throughout the foyer, and soft conversation filled the air. Looking at the faces around them, Ben wondered how many even wore their real visage, and how many holograms were present. Here and there in the crowd he saw familiar faces, recognizable personas used to conceal reality beneath. Many were wearing the simple half masks that were the current Aurelian trend, ones not unlike those that he and Rey wore as well.

Rey’s heart stopped at the sight of a familiar face, and a familiar scar. The person wearing Ben’s face wasn’t quite tall enough or fit enough to be Ben, but the face was right off a Supreme Leader Holo Vid, and the half-mask was stylized to look like the silver tracings that had once surrounded the eyes of Ben’s mask.  
  
“Why does he look more like you than you do?” she asked. “Is that why you haven’t been afraid to walk around with your...your face showing?”

It sounded awkward, but it was a fair question. Ben hadn’t done a lot of public speeches or addresses as Supreme Leader, but there would be enough former First Order who knew his face for it to be a risk on planets any closer than the Mid Rim.

Ben smirked, both amused and disturbed by the man's choice of costume.  

"Something like that. I knew that it was a possibility, and therefore that no one would look so closely at me. But I didn't actually expect to see it."

He guided Rey through the crowd, keeping her moving although her head was on a swivel trying to take everything in. He did pause near one of the tables to allow her to try the small twisted confections that rest there. He was glad to see that despite the tension of the day, she still couldn't help her obvious delight at the strange light pastries and their intricate flavors. 

He kept her arm in his as they moved, half to keep up appearances, and half to help her balance in shoes with which she was very unfamiliar. As they took their places in the main auction hall, Ben tucked the small clicker that was used for bidding into his hand and surveyed the pieces that were spread on elegantly draped tables at the front of the room. Most of them appeared to be modern art pieces, which meant that they appeared to be piles of junk as far as he was concerned.  He didn't understand how the tangles and twisting colors actually came across as appealing to some. The three lots that claimed to be of First Order origin were on the farthest table, and though the first was not so different from the other pieces, the second and third made a knot clench deep in his stomach. A partially destroyed twisted red helmet, once belonging to one of his Praetorian guards, and a dark sliver of ornately worked metal-- a fragment from the throne that had once been Snoke’s... and then his own.  He couldn't look away, the memories associated with the unassuming piece digging into his mind like claws.  He had felt powerful then, he had cast off the tethers that made him weak and unsure.  As he was now, he couldn't deny the thread of regret that twisted in his mind and in the sudden speeding up of his heartbeat.  It excited him... and it sickened him.

Rey stared at the Praetorian Guard helmet, and didn’t ask if it was real. The miasma of emotions rolling through her senses meant the only barometer she needed was Ben. There was anger, of course—that was an ever present element in awareness of him—but there was also prickling regret, loss, and determination. She knew the regret would be there, but feeling it threading though him was disconcerting, especially when she was so uncertain about his stability.

But not his intentions. Part of her had entertained the question of whether this were an elaborate ruse to re-secure his hold on the First Order, but no. There was too much revulsion in that cocktail of emotions.

She made a close inspection of one of the art pieces and, smiling, turned away from it and stepped several feet away. “That’s just an Rhodilion Actuator painted over with lacquer. How is it art?”

She slid her heel and pitched slightly into him. Hell, if the floor was any slicker, she’d have to use the Force to walk.

Catching her weight, Ben braced her with an arm under her elbow.  The sudden jostling snapped him out of uncomfortable thoughts, and he broke away from his inspection of the items gratefully.  

"It's art to someone... I suppose.  I'm certain at least three quarters of this room doesn't know what an actuator is or does and wouldn't recognize one if it bit them.  Just squint your eyes and tilt your head sideways, it becomes a rather pleasingly shaped squiggle of colors."

Leading Rey to a pair of the seats that ringed the back half of the room, Ben helped her into one so that she wouldn't have to worry about falling into a tall tower of glazed truffles situated nearby.

"The bidding starts soon.  We'll be trying to show extreme interest in those three, but hopefully not win.  Throw out enough money to be interesting.  If we do win one, we're pitching it in the canal on our way home."

Rey gave him a grim smile, holding onto his shoulder for balance as she sank into her chair. “I’ll agree to that,” she said. As soon as the weight was off her feet, she slid her heels out of the shoes. “Ugh, I think they make these to keep people from running away.”

"Probably." Ben agreed, distracted. The other attendees were slowly settling into place, the white gloved assistants making last minute adjustments to the display.

Ben could feel eyes on them, curiosity. Rey stood out in the crowd, her complete obliviousness to the fact only adding to her allure. That, and her lack of standard mannerisms. Twisting to angle his body more towards hers, he took one of her hands in his. It felt strange and tense, but he couldn't leave her unprotected here, and besides, it was necessary to keep their cover. 

A frisson went up Rey’s arm at the touch. Suddenly, nothing else in the room seemed quite as fascinating as Ben’s fingers weaving slowly through hers. She glanced down, watching the interplay of her hands with the dark fabric of his gloves, studying the length of his fingers, the width of his hands, and the path of the vein that ran along his wrist. Her hand was so small tucked inside his. To an outsider, it would look protected.

Rey swallowed, a strange hollowness opening up in her chest.

A twinkling rainbow of iridescent material gleamed at the front of the chamber, followed a moment later by soft chimes. People seemed to float and glide gracefully to seats, some of them waving to friends they spotted nearby.

A being of some indeterminate humanoid species moved into the row in front of them, giving Rey a long, dragging scan. He glanced at Ben, at their joined hands, and offered a salacious grin. “Very nice costumes, though you should have put the Jedi girl on a leash.”


	25. 55 Porgs (204 on the Moon)

Rey’s senses went white hot.

Ben tightened his fingers around hers as he felt Rey's energy spike in panic, holding her still as he offered an empty laugh in return for the creature’s lackluster joke.

"I'm afraid the jest goes over her head," he apologized with a distant smile. "My wife isn't a terribly political woman." He pointed with his chin towards the other slightly paunchy Kylo Ren in the room. "And his costume outstrips mine for accuracy, I'm afraid."

The moment she understood the joke, Rey gave a nervous laugh and ceased casing the immediate area for something with which to improvise a weapon. She’d found a number of likely choices, including her own porg-spiker of a shoe.

“I’m just here for the food,” she said. Then, leaning a bit toward Ben, she added. “My husband is the one with the taste for history. I wouldn’t know art from artifact without him. I still can’t tell which of the three throne room pieces is fake.” She leaned forward, putting her hand on the man’s arm in the same way she remembered the Twilek doing to Ben. “Maybe you can help me? He said he’d buy me a dress by a designer I can’t pronounce if I got it right!”

The man laughed and patted her knee with a condescending familiarity, as he leaned in and began to explain to her the various auction pieces. Ben watched in surprise. Rey's artful manipulation of the gentleman--if indeed it was a man--had caught him completely off guard. It was a Rey he had never seen before, and it was both amusing and disconcerting.

 As the auction began, Ben politely excused them and pulled Rey back against his side with an affectionate arm over her shoulders. He felt spikes of discomfort radiating off of her, aware that she probably felt mutual disturbance from him. There was still too much charging the air between them, and every touch was filled with tension and mistrust.

Ben’s arm weighed down her shoulders, but despite their slightly-abrasive moods, she was grateful for the annexation of her personal space. It at least reminded their overly-amicable neighbor that her leg fell squarely across the border into no-man’s land.

Rey glanced around at the other couples, noting the behaviors and trying to decide what she would do. Sana Tahn was taking shape inside her head—a girl swept away by love and amazed by grandeur, who saw money as a magic trick and her husband as the magician. A little proud to have been singled out, a little silly, and extremely naive.

She found a girl a few rows ahead who seemed to be overdoing the simpering adoration. Rey studied her. A moment later, she snuck her arm around Ben’s waist and crossed her legs toward him. A softening of her spine and she leaned her head against his shoulder. Pins jabbed her scalp, but that was inevitable.

“He seems to think the same pieces are real as you do,” she whispered, smoothing his lapel even as the girl three rows up did the same. “Good eye or potential target?”

Ben rested his cheek in her hair, regretfully prickly with decorations.  Their proximity was making it harder to retain the cool veneer that protected him from her, but he focused his mind on the mission at hand.  

"Let's wait and see.  If he continues to be a fixture at events as we follow the trail, it might be worth an approach." He took a steadying breath, clenching one fist to trigger the pain which had become his best defense against Rey's presence and the hurt of his most immediate memories of her.  His other hand fell to the small of her back protectively, making it clear to those around them that she was his, not to be taken advantage of.

As the auction proceeded with great ceremony, Ben became accustomed to the weight and warmth of her against his side. With his mind otherwise engaged, he could almost forget what had passed between them, drifting back to a time when this might have been comfortable and welcome.

Rey’s eyes remained sharp, taking in the details of the room and its occupants through her lashes. It was interesting to see which people were attending the auction for the items, and which were, like her, observing the crowd.

A roving waiter passed out drinks and Rey took one, using the glass as a secondary mask that allowed her to look more closely at a particular humanoid in dark purple, who seemed keenly interested in her and Ben.

She feigned a sip and caught the woman’s eye, smiling as if they had locked gazes by accident.

“And now, an original piece of artwork salvaged and preserved from the throne room of the First Order’s Supreme Leader Kylo Ren. The bidding begins at 10,000 credits.”

Ben clicked the small device in his hand, sending in his first bid. It was a hasty action, perfect for a man with great interest in items of the First Order and a willingness to throw money away. It would drive up the price early, and those who won would wait to jump in until late in the process. He listened attentively to the auction master, waiting until two or three people had gone between his bids to click again, and drive the price still higher.

 The first piece, despite its atrocious fabrication, went for a decent sum, and a delighted alien of indeterminate gender and multiple appendages clapped several of them together and left the room to claim their prize from one of the valets.

The rest of the auction went in similar fashion, though on the final piece Ben found himself in a bidding war with another anonymous guest. Some amount of pride was driving up his bidding, despite his distaste for the twisted bit of throne, it was still hard to see it as nothing but a senseless object for someone with more money than respect.

He forced himself to back down, schooling his face into a look of disappointment when the auction-master finally called the winner of the bid. He leaned towards Rey, pitching his voice just loud enough for those in the immediate vicinity to hear his words.

"I’m so sorry, my dear. I know you would have loved to have one of those pieces."

Rey gave him her best impression of a disappointed smile. “It’s just so sad to watch history walk away with someone else.”

She was still trying to surreptitiously shove her heel back into her shoe when the woman in purple made her way across the aisle. She was older, with a bulbous head and several long folds of fleshy face.

“Greetings,” she said. “I could not help but notice your fine costume and finer bidding selections.”

"You have our thanks." Ben smiled, helping Rey to her feet. "It's rare to meet others with mutual appreciations.  It is simply unfortunate that we were unable to procure something of interest."

He patted Rey's hand comfortingly as he surreptitiously helped her to balance. "It is disappointing that such prestigious history is becoming so rare in the galaxy these last few years."

The woman nodded. “Indeed! I feel almost embarrassed to have swept even one out from under you. How shall I make amends?” She pretended to think for a beat. “I know. I’m hosting a dinner in two days. I would be most honored if you would attend and allow me to learn more of you.”

She lifted her comlink to Ben’s. “There, I’ve transferred an invitation. You’re not local, are you? No—I’d have heard of you. Leyto Tahn, I see by your comm registry. And your spectacular wife?”

Rey lifted her hand in the way she’d seen the other girls, allowing the woman to grip her fingers. “Sana, Madam. I’m so embarrassed. I didn’t catch yours.”

“Oh, I didn’t give it,” the woman said. “My, you are charming. So unsteady on those shoes. Like a baby Fathier. You’ll learn, my love. We all do.” She put a hand on Rey’s cheek, but looked at Ben. “Sweet.”

He smiled faintly at the compliment, tucking an arm around Rey's waist and pulling her against his side like a trophy.  "She has many things to learn, and it's charming to see her try."  He replied with a sickeningly patronizing tone.  The nature of the constant condescension forced on Rey made him prickle with defensive anger, but he comforted himself knowing that she was a thousand times more competent and useful than any ten of these perfumed socialites.

"We would be delighted to attend your dinner.  It will be another chance for Sana to try out one of her lovely new dresses."

Rey smiled politely, trying not to be annoyed at the way everyone seemed to be disregarding her. Hadn’t Leia once told her that it was useful to be underestimated? Much as it burned her insides to be thought silly and incompetent, it could work to their advantage—no one would be careful around her as they might be around Ben.

“Why, it certainly would!” the unnamed woman said. “And might I add that, in such a private home event, the pageantry of our public appearances is unnecessary. Of course, you are welcome to maintain a veneer of anonymity, but I think you’ll find the company amiable to true friendship.” She passed a gloved hand over Ben’s, depositing a small token inside. “This will win you in the door of almost any establishment worth visiting in the capitol. Simply tell them the Madam Concierge Ik To recommended you, and you’ll find yourself duly accommodated.”

With the barest of regal curtseys, and a touch of Rey’s fingertips, she turned back to the crowd and was immediately descended upon by a pack of socialites.

With a minimum of small talk, Ben led Rey back towards the shuttles that were parked and waiting at the entrance to the grand auction house.  Helping her keep her balance as she stepped inside, he settled in next to her as the now-familiar silence settled around them.

Each length of time they spent with no words, the distance between them seemed to grow. Most times Ben could barely even feel her in the Force beside him, the walls he had erected were so high. Only at times when her panic or emotions spiked high did the familiar presence reappear at his side.

Even so, he could read her discomfort in the way her shoulders caved in as they were finally alone in the shuttle. She was tense and closed in on herself as she watched the city outside the window, hands twisting in her lap. Resisting the urge to reach over and still them, Ben turned to look out his own window instead.

As the shuttle pulled up the small villa's lights came on automatically, a warm glow casting across the hillside. At some point during the ride Rey had managed to wiggle out of her dangerous shoes, and so Ben let her walk alone, veering off towards his own quarters as they entered.

Rey knew the silence had to end. It was tempting to let it stand, to steep in their private resentments until the feelings either faded or stained, but Rey couldn’t envision a way in which they succeeded at this mission, or any other mission, with the uncomfortable intervening silences. It was going to be less comfortable than her shoes, but it was going to have to happen.

They were good together, when their minds could feel each other. She felt like the astringent clarity that cut through his darkness, the two of them working together to create something that couldn’t be beaten. This was not that. This was stumbling and hoping to be caught by someone who may or may not want to watch you fall.

So when Ben veered off, Rey ignored the gravel beneath her feet and rushed to catch him in the foyer.

“Ben,” she said, snagging his arm. She bodily turned him around, relieved by the use of her own strength—the reminder that she could. “We need to talk. This isn’t going to work if we can’t trust each other.”

"I trust you to do what needs to be done."  He answered coldly, looking down at her.  Her eyes were dark with worry and a pulsing discomfort that he could feel even through his defenses. Was it worry? Guilt?  Fear? He couldn't tell.

"There really isn't much to talk about." Almost gently, he pulled his arm from under her hands. "Talking doesn't change anything."

“Yes, it does,” she said. “It won’t change what happened, but it might change how we both feel about it.” She snagged his hand, not caring that it might hurt. That it might provoke him into acknowledging the anger and pain that was clearly there. “It upset you. You feel like I betrayed you and your defenses are back up higher than they’ve been since...since Crait, really. We have to hash this out.”

"What, exactly?" He snapped back, anger spiking through his chest with a sudden knifing pain. "What are we 'hashing out', Rey? I have never been unclear with you! I offered you everything, you shared secrets with me in the dark that you couldn't tell anyone else."  

"Then what else do you want from me?" Her voice lifted in frustration.

"You know what I want!" He yelled, jerking his hand away. “You always have, but you just don't want to face it!" His stomach rolled with a sickening loss as he backed away, emotion surging. "So let’s not pretend like it's not there, or at least was there. You knew..." He stopped himself from saying what he wanted to say, lashing out instead. "... or you wouldn't have felt so fucking guilty about it!"

Anger spiked in Rey’s chest. “Of course I felt guilty!” she snapped back. “It hurt you, and that was the last thing I wanted! I never expected you to find out about Poe—I certainly wasn’t going to parade it. And I didn’t think you had expectations of me.”

"Not 'expectations'." He growled, watching her darkly. "But an understanding, at least. I made you a promise, long ago. A promise that you would never be alone, that you would never be nothing."

He closed his eyes, taking a steadying breath as his heart hammered in his chest. "I don't intend to break it. That will never change." He opened his eyes slowly, meeting her eyes briefly before turning away.  The pain in his chest was fading into devastating emptiness.  "But whatever else this was, it's done.  It has to be."

Fear made a cold rush through Rey’s veins. Both his honesty about his feelings and the tearing hurt that pulled him from her were drawing something from her she could no longer deny. She felt him moving away and held on, unable to quite face the source of that slow creeping fear.

“I don’t know what this was, Ben,” she said, her voice already feeling strangled by the rising lump in her throat. “I don’t even know what I want it to be. But I know you’re important to me—possibly the most important person.” She stopped, forced herself to admit something, and swallow it down, and accept it. “Not possibly. You are. You are the most important person to me. In the universe. Anywhere.”

Rey pushed her feelings toward him, offering up the tangle of confusion and fear and warmth and frustration that occupied the Ben-shaped space in her heart. It was more honest than she’d ever intended to be. She felt the brief flash of memory, an image of his sleeping face as she stroked his hair back from his face in that desert hovel and considered kissing him.

She took a short, sharp breath and barreled on. “I don’t know what that means yet, but it frightens me in a way it never seems to have done for you. Everything you’ve been sure of, I haven’t. I didn’t ever want to hurt you. I wanted to figure this out. I thought that was what I was doing. And I’m sorry it hurt you in the process. I never, never wanted it to.”

Her words washed over him, her emotions reaching out towards him with desperate fingers.  He sucked in a sharp breath, feeling his walls fracture and threaten to come down.  Stubbornly he denied them, jamming them back into place through force of will.  He was silent for a moment, feeling her trembling presence behind him, begging.  

"Give me time." He finally said roughly, trying to untangle the effect her words had on him. Her words and...  wait, Poe? Poe fucking Dameron? 

Shivering irritation tingled up his spine. The cocky, loudmouthed, frustratingly un-killable Poe Dameron. He growled under his breath and stalked towards his quarters. Images he didn't want tumbled in his mind, and he cursed the fact that he had never succeeded in killing the frustrating man when he had the chance.

Rey let him go. Giving him time was fair. She needed some of it herself—time to process the admissions she’d made to herself, and the feelings that went with them. She drifted back toward her room, slowly digging pins out of her hair, leaving a trail behind her for whatever ridiculous cleaning droid to pick up. Maybe her beauty droid would run out, and leave her hair alone.

Once back in her room, she released the belt and shrugged out of the itchy lace top, even as the beauty droid rolled up and took the things from her. She stripped from the silk camisole and pants, removed the painful brazier and even more painful scrap of silk and lace that was meant to serve as underwear.

“Madam Tahn, I have drawn your bath,” the droid said, guiding her into the adjoined bathing chamber. An enormous, jet black marble tub was inset against the wall beneath a wide open pane of transparisteel. Cups of some vibrant purple liquid glowed along its edge, along with several pots of different sands and soaps. Rey climbed in, hissing as the hot water stung her blistered feet.

The droid made itself useful, removing the last of the pins from her hair, washing Rey’s hair and massaging her scalp. By the time the thing moved on to a long, focused detail work on Rey’s hands, Rey was sinking low in the tub, protected by the heat of the ever-warm water and mesmerized by the dancing golden auroras in the amethyst sky. She felt safe enough, at last, to think.

Was she in love with Ben Solo? She wasn’t sure what love was supposed to feel like. It wasn’t like what she had with Poe, no. That was a different kind of fondness, and a sort of physical trust that she hadn’t given to anyone else. Ben, though, was very different. She’d told him the truth—there was no one in her life that was more important than him. The feelings he evoked in her were core-deep and indescribable. Was it possible love had grown through the cracks in their barriers, sending tendrils through to break up the wall. Like roots reclaiming an abandoned fortress, was this feeling simply subject to time? What happened if it was pruned? What happened if it was nurtured?

She sighed, and sank under the warm water, wishing she knew the answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THEY TALKED!!!
> 
> Thank you guys so much for your wonderful comments. Sathya and I can’t overstate how much it means to us that you’re all reading and enjoying this so much.
> 
> This chapter is for you guys, the ones who have commented and kept us squeeing through the new year! You’re the best. :)


	26. 88 Porgs (175 on the Moon)

The following days passed in a sort of uneasy silence.  Ben wasn't exactly avoiding Rey, but she left early in the day to continue her work on the Betrayal, and he spent long afternoons either going over communications or plying local informants for information on their mysterious host for the upcoming dinner.  Ben still had access to old First Order information servers, but neither the names that she went by nor her facial recognition brought up any data.  

The times that they did pass each other in the villa were awkward and tense, punctuated by vague greetings and halting pleasantries.  Ben knew that eventually they would have to talk again, but somehow this seemed like neither the time nor the place to do so.  The things he had to say to her froze in his mind and failed to make it to his tongue, disappearing whenever he saw her.  Unaware, the beauty droid trundled happily around Rey wherever she went, doing its best to 'educate' her on the finer points of being a woman.  Ben also left the capable job of helping Rey to find a dress for the evening in its small robotic hands, trusting it not to let Rey embarrass herself publicly.

As the night of the dinner to which they had been invited arrived, Ben stood before the mirror in his room, absently adjusting the gold cuffs on the long tunic he wore and wondering what they were walking into.  The reflection looking back at him felt strange, like a portrait rather than an accurate image.  The high collar of the heavily embroidered jacket was threaded with soft gold, gold buttons decorating the black velvet at an angle from shoulder to opposite hip.  He had pulled the back half of his hair into a short queue, leaving enough dark curls to fall over the embarrassing ears that had caused Rey such amusement back on Artas.  The tunic was long enough to cover the tops of the high boots that he wore, dark synthetic leather rising to his knees.  Bracing himself for the tension of the evening ahead, Ben pulled thin black gloves on over his bandaged hands, wincing slightly.  They still were not healing as well as he liked, although he knew he wasn't exactly making it easy.

Stepping out into the common area he froze, breath catching in his lungs as Rey turned at the sound of his entrance.  

The gown she had chosen was of the darkest midnight blue, one bare shoulder exposed and thick fabric gathering over the other at a worked silver clasp before falling down in a half-cape that trailed the floor.  The rest hugged her form, a wide band of silver embroidery spiraling across her hips above the smooth fall of floor length gown.  It was elegant, and she was beautiful.  Breathtakingly so.  The droid was still hovering behind her, trying to tame the waterfall of brown curls that tumbled around her shoulders.

Ben tried to remember how to breathe, and wasn't entirely sure he was succeeding.

"You look... refined."  He managed awkwardly, cursing himself inwardly for the awkward choice of words.

She studied Ben just as closely, uncertain how to translate the expression on his face or the surprise and awkwardness tingling through their bond. ‘Refined’ was good. She’d chosen the dress that reminded her most of Leia, and ‘refined’ was as good a descriptor for the princess-come-general as any.

Ben, on the other hand, managed his usual brooding hauteur with a sort of menacing suavity that caught her off guard. The gold and black outfit didn’t diminish his size in the same way as the shadowy robe he’d once worn. Instead, the diagonal cut of buttons emphasized the breadth of his shoulders and chest, while the tall boots and snug trousers beneath the long coat showed off the length of his legs. Overall, it did the most of any outfit she’d seen to reveal his undeniably handsome proportions.

“You look intimidating,” she said. “In a good way.”

RD, as she’d taken to thinking of the beauty droid, waved a jeweled comb in her face. “If you would please let me pin up your hair, Madam Tahn,” the droid said.

“No,” Rey said, swatting the droid away. “I will deactivate you.”

Finally managing a full breath, Ben braced himself and stepped towards her, holding out a hand.  "Mrs. Tahn?"  He offered with the faintest quirk of humor.  Something had relaxed between them, even if only barely.  The tightness he had carried in his chest for days was relaxing, allowing him to function again.  He waved the mortified droid away, and taking Rey’s fingers in his own, he led her from the villa to the waiting shuttle.  She was steadier tonight, and with her head reaching his shoulder, he guessed that she was using the long drape of the gown to conceal flat--or at least nearly--shoes.

Once settled into the shuttle he tilted towards her, shifting to meet her gaze.  

"I'm thinking this will be a small affair, we're being tested.  We'll be expected to give appropriate answers to thinly veiled small talk."  He arched an arrogant eyebrow at her, assuming a snobbish tone.  "Do tell, Mistress Tahn, How do you feel about the recent state of affairs in our little corner of the galaxy?"

She looked at him a moment, not quite understanding, before it dawned on her that she was meant to respond to him as if he’d asked her genuinely. Poe sometimes employed this strange form of “practice” questioning when he or Finn were preparing for a senate meeting and while Rey could see where it would be useful to hash out answers ahead of time, she’d never imagined herself needing to do it.

“It’s...er...a shame there isn’t more control,” she said hesitantly. “It’s hard to expect such a small new government capable of really keeping things in line so far from the core.”

"I'm sure on your little world things were quite different, but now that you've seen the wonders the galaxy has to offer, surely you can see how hard this has all been for us."  He sighed, struggling with the affectations of the upper class.

"Fuck it, you'll do fine."  He leaned back in the comfortable seat, watching their route carefully.

Rey chewed her lip, not thinking about the varnish on it until she tasted the lip coating on her tongue. Damn, she shouldn’t have worried about messing it up as she ate; she was going to destroy it before dinner even started.

Her eyes darted around the little cockpit without finding purchase on anything. She was too nervous to get lost in the glitz and ceremony of the world outside, and too reticent to strike up another conversation with Ben...until her eyes fell in the gloves he still insisted on wearing.

Bruises should have faded by now. Cuts shouldn’t have been far behind them. He must have done something worse than he was letting on.

In a quick move, she snapped his hand up and slid her fingers down into the wrist of the glove. A moment later she was tugging at the fingers, pulling it off.

Ben started to tug away, but thought better of it.  Rey had that determined set to her face that meant resistance would be met with glaring and stubborn insistence.  It was easier to let her do as she pleased.  

"They'll heal, Rey."  He tried to assure her, a thin thread of embarrassment winding through him.  His temper had always been uncontrollable, and he didn't like to admit to how easily it got the better of him.

Successfully tugging the glove free, she studied the long, fine bones of his hand, and the bruises still going green around he knuckles. For some reason, the sight of it both hurt and annoyed her. He’d been angry at her when he did this, and anger made him reckless. Stupid, even.

She ran her fingers down the back of his hand, pressing firmly enough to feel the contours of the bones. She’d have known when she hit the cracked bone even without the flinch and truncated grunt.

“You’re an idiot,” she said softly. “These should have been treated. Do you want to lose dexterity?”

"It's not a full break."  Ben insisted, finally tugging his hand free of hers and looking down at it in irritation.  "It's at most a hairline fracture, it will heal.  Trust me, I know the difference."  It hadn't been the first time a wall had been a convenient target, and he doubted somehow that it would be the last.

He tugged his glove back over his hand as the shuttle pulled up to a pair of beautifully worked gates.

“I’m working on them when we get back,” she said. “You’re not getting it...”

She trailed off as the gates opened and they approached a massive pale blue building with scrolling golden detail work molded around every one of its thousand or so windows. Columns propped up an ornate golden roof over the front steps, which spilled in the dozens from a set of open red doors.

“That’s not a house,” Rey said. “You could land a star destroyer on that thing.”

"Now now, Sana, What would you know about such things?"  Ben patted her hand condescendingly, but amusement leaked through the crumbling barriers between them.

The shuttle pulled to a smooth stop, and Ben led the way up to the doors which opened before them with practiced timing.  Their host was waiting, holding out her hands in greeting.  "Master and Mistress Tahn!  I am glad that you chose to accept my invitation."  Her smile was polished, with just the correct amount of warmth.

Rey took Madam Ik Ta’s hand and made an attempt at the nodding curtesy she’d seen the other women do. “Thank you again for the generous welcome,” she said.

“Not at all, my dear. It is my delight to introduce such fine young people to the society of Aurelia. Come, come, straight through to the parlor for some light chat and drink before dinner. We eat quite late here, Sana darling, so do avail yourself of the hors d’oeuvres.”

They moved past, and Rey found herself winding her arm a bit tighter around Ben’s as they passed beneath a massive chandelier of what looked like black and purple crystal.

The parlor was a warmly-lit room filled with curvaceous furniture and plush carpets, offset by sleet floating tables and tall windowed doors flung wide to a balcony overlooking the canal. Men and women and a few aliens stood about in clusters, admiring various works of art, including the red Praetorian guard mask that had been at auction. She noted a few other obviously-Imperial artifacts, and was about to ask Ben if he thought they were real when her eye was snared by a colorfully-laden sideboard.

Her stomach growled. She glanced at Ben.

Ben looked down at her, arching an eyebrow.  "Well you're here for the food, I see."  Untwining his arm from hers, he gave her a gentle shove in the direction of the small and intricate looking hors d'oeuvres.  "I'll mingle, see what comes up."

As Rey moved towards the food, Ben reached out with a small tendril of the Force to keep track of her.  He let that part of his awareness stay with her, making sure that she was alright on her own as he moved towards the small cluster of people stacked around the newest acquisition to the gallery.

The bright red helmet was twisted on one side from some kind of blast, and Ben felt a heavy kind of revulsion twist in his stomach.  It was eerily reminiscent of the relic of Vader's old helmet that he had once kept to remind himself of his purpose, a purpose now shifted and matured.  Tearing his eyes away from it, he politely greeted an elderly gentleman who had moved up to his side with interest.

"Lord Kylo Ren, Interesting choice of costume."  The man said, looking him over with curiosity.  "Our gracious host did inform you that no masquerade was necessary at our little gathering?"  The man smiled conspiratorially.  "We're all friends here."

Inclining his head, Ben responded with a lightly embarrassed tone that seemed to put the man at ease.  "No costume, I'm afraid."  He lifted a hand to touch his face self-consciously.  "A reconstruction done in a moment of exuberance when I was younger."  He shrugged.  "I have considered reversing the procedure, but now it almost seems worth remembering what was, at least."  He held out a hand in introduction.  "Leyto Tahn.  And you are?"

With a congenial smile, the man returned the greeting warmly.  "Do'tek Hvaarl.  It's a pleasure.  It's always unexpected to find one of your generation with such interesting respect for... older traditions."  He glanced across the room to where Rey was hovering near a tall table, a small plate in her hands.  "And with such a lovely young woman as your companion."

Ben followed his gaze, stamping down his irritation as the man's eyes tracked a path he didn't like down Rey's body.  He resisted his more violent impulses, clearing his throat to bring the attention back to himself.  "Yes, my wife.  She's still new to all this..."  He waved a hand all-encompassingly.

A little embarrassed, Rey nevertheless made her way to the intricate spread of hors d’oeuvres. She peered at them, trying to decode their shapes and identify the components of each. There were all manner of beings in the room, and she had no doubt some of these foods were designed with their particular diets in mind. At last, she selected what appeared to be some kind of nut amidst a cloud of flossy caramel. As she raised it to her lips, however, she noted that the nut was, in fact, staring back.

Hastily replacing the bug-treat, she moved along.

“Might I make you a plate, madam?”

Relief already moving through her at the serving droid’s voice, Rey turned. “Yes, thank you, I-“ she cut herself off as her eyes fell on a naked collarbone. Below that, a man’s naked chest, draped here and there with filmy gold chains. Below that...

Rey practically leapt backwards, but the man didn’t seem bothered. He calmly filled a plate, seeming not to care that her face and throat were suddenly on fire. Nothing. There was nothing beneath those chains. Not even a scrap of fabric to add to the mystery of his physique. Her heart pounded in her ears, and it was only the rising panic of indecision that kept her rooted to the spot long enough for the serving man to hand her the plate, bow, and stride away, giving her a full view of his tightly-muscled backside.

Someone pressed a drink into her hand. “I do so despise serving droids. Beings have far more intuition, and such a range of pleasing attributes, don’t you agree?”

Rey swallowed, glancing sideways at the young human woman. “I...”

The woman was blonde, with eyes of such a pale ice blue that they almost soothed the burning in Rey’s cheeks. She scanned Rey’s face and neck, then dropped her gaze to take in her body and trembling hands. “Oh,” she said. “I believe I know who you are, my dear. Madam Concierge Ik Ta did say there was a couple in attendance with the sweetest wife who was new to our society. Tahn, is that right?”

Rey had the impression the woman had known this even before she approached. “Yes,” she said, allowing a bit of a nervous laugh to enter her voice. “I’m certainly not...used to any of this.”

The woman smiled indulgently. “Try this,” she said, plucking something from Rey’s plate. To Rey’s astonishment, she held it to Rey’s lips, as if expecting her to take it directly from her fingertips. I’m playing a role, she thought. Sana would enjoy the attention. She took the morsel, and felt her lips brush the woman’s fingertips.

The next moment, she barely cared. Flavor exploded in her mouth as the outer shell of the treat cracked, leaking some sweet, spicy fluid along her tongue, even as the shell melted away into cream. If her face could have flushed further, it would have. Nothing should taste this good. No food should make her want to sit down, or lean into someone for support, or strip off her dress.

...which she certainly did not want to do.

As soon as the sensation arrived, it began to fade, leaving her pulse throbbing at points in her body she would have been embarrassed to admit. The woman stood before her, her hands hot on Rey’s waist as she kept her steady. A knowing smile curved on her lips. “We’ll save any more of those for after dinner. You seem particularly affectable.”

Rey spotted Ben across the room, in conversation with a man. Swallowing again, tasting just the slightest hint of the liquor, she took a wobbly step in that direction. The woman fell in with her, curving an arm around her back and keeping her steady. Rey ducked her head as they arrived closer, letting the soft curls of her hair curtain the heat still likely blazing across her face and chest.

“I found your little lost virka kitten struggling with the canapés, Master Tahn,” the woman said, delivering Rey directly into Ben’s side.

It had been all Ben could do not to go to Rey's aid as alarm and a myriad of other more... confusing emotions had tumbled down their tentative new connection.  Instead he listened to the man across from him prattle on, glancing Rey's direction just long enough to assure himself that she was not in any real danger, at least not of being harmed.  

As her new socialite guardian escorted her back to him, Ben quickly set his glass down on a tray carried by a mostly naked young serving woman and reached out to support Rey as she stumbled into him.  The heat of her confusion and embarrassment was almost enough to reach his own cheeks, but Ben clamped down on their link and smiled politely at the delicate young predator who had done the delivering.  

"Ah, I thank you!  Apologies, Sana must have eaten something she should not have."  He couldn't help the direct look he gave the woman as he spoke.  

Bracing an arm around Rey's waist and supporting her against his hip, Ben kept Rey on her feet.  "Excuse me for a moment, good sir." He nodded to his prior companion.  "I think Sana needs a moment before we are called to dinner."  

Carefully, Ben led Rey towards a small plush love seat that lay near the base of tall windows through which the Aurelian sky was brilliantly displayed.  Lowering her carefully to the cushions, Ben crouched in front of her and took her hands into one of his own, and reaching up with the other to brush slightly mussed curls back to see her face more clearly.  Brows drawn in concern, he looked up at her with a frown.  "How are you holding up?"  He asked carefully.

“I think she did that on purpose,” she said. “She...fed me something. And the servants aren’t...they’re...not wearing uniforms or...”

She pressed one of her hands to her face, turning the backs of her knuckles against it to feel the heat. Her pupils were dilated wide, heart still pounding. “I have no idea what that was, but I do not want to eat it again. The...” She set the plate down on the love seat and pointed at a second of the little squares. “That. I am never eating that again.”

Still keeping one hand on hers for contact, Ben reached out and picked up the little square, sniffing it carefully.  "Ahhh..."  He smirked, setting it back down.  "Aurelian truffles, filled with the planet's proprietary liqueur.  They won't even trade this stuff off world, they want to make people come here for it."  He arched an eyebrow at her.  "It has quite a... reputation."

Glancing around them, Ben sighed.  "As for the staff, I do believe that _is_  their uniform."  His eyes skated over the gold-draped bodies of young serving people working through the crowd.  Not all of them were human, and a pretty Twilek servant at the bar was most certainly using her well-formed breasts to entice the guests to drink more.

“And people agree to dressing that way?” It wasn’t really a question. She’d seen enough of the entertainment holovids passed around the various resistance bases and dives on Jakku to know that, for the right amount of money or attention, people would do almost anything. And hadn’t Poe chided her once for her judgement of those people? He’d insisted that what she found degrading wasn’t necessarily so for others, and told her she shouldn’t assume anything about their morality or strength of character because of it. It had taken a while for her to roll that around in her mind and decide he was right. Clearly, it was still struggling to sink in.

She fanned herself with her free hand. “How long does the effect last? And is there anything on that plate that’s safe? It was the first thing I tried that didn’t have a bug on it.” Eyes wide, she looked at Ben. “I almost ate a bug.”

Ben held back a quick laugh, patting her hand reassuringly.  "What and you've never been desperate enough to eat a bug in your scavenger days?”

“Not while they’re still alive enough to watch me do it.”

“Try this one."  He pointed to a delicately whorled puff pastry twisted into the shape of a shell.  "It's safe enough, just bread and meat if you look past the really unnecessary decorations."  

Ben looked up as the other collected guests around them began to drift in one direction, towards large double doors opening up along the far side of the room.  "It looks like dinner may be starting..."  He carefully helped Rey to her feet, glad that she had not chosen difficult shoes this night.  "Just watch what I drink and follow suit."  He leaned down and quickly kissed the top of her head as she swayed against him, both the fond action of a doting husband and a comforting instinct.  "The effects fade."  He reassured her quietly.

Legs still a bit wobbly, she let herself lean into Ben’s chest for a moment. His dark suit front blotted out the light, and the reassuring grip of his hands on her waist was a reassuring anchor as she centered herself. When he kissed her head, a tingle slid down her spine, part surprise, part wriggling happiness, and part comfort. She exhaled, straightened up, and marshaled her senses into order.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the naughtiness beginnnnnns!
> 
> Now we take bets/predictions on how many chapters it will take for these two kids to get it on.
> 
> Also, what do you think is happening with the porgs? ;)


	27. 72 Porgs (167 on the Moon)

The dining room was all silken amethyst walls, decorated with swirling gold-leafed plaster that looked like the delicate cream decorations added to fancy desserts. The chandelier above dripped with what Rey would guess were actual purple and white gemstones, casting refracted rainbows about the room. Servants in their filmy gold jewelry lined the walls, and the long banquet table was laden with a thousand different colors. An enormous holographic centerpiece disguised whatever main course lay beyond, and Rey found herself hoping it wasn’t going to be like the dining show she’d witnessed. She wasn’t certain how much more of the evening she could spend red-faced before she passed out from all the blood redirecting to her cheeks.

Something spicy hung in the air, pepper oils and meat twining seductively in her sinuses, causing her eyes and mouth to water simultaneously. Whatever it was, she wanted it—Rey had a long, torrid relationship with fiery foods, ever since she learned that a bite of a Jakku mission-pepper would make even the desert’s midday feel cool.

She sank into the chair a servant pulled out, and was relieved when Ben waved him away to push the chair in himself. One glance at the place setting almost had her groaning. There were at least twelve different utensils, and some of them she wasn’t even certain were meant to be held by hands. She’d have to watch Ben closely during dinner and hope he ate the things she wanted to try.

When everyone was seated, the hologram around the main course fizzled away. Rey covered her face.

The long golden centerpiece was both fountain and platter, with layers of plates and sculpted bowls that contained a myriad of soups and delicate sauces for the many dishes at the table.  Creams and rich honeys cascaded down across the sculpture's sides into rivulets that ran around the statue's base, in reach of all the diners should they wish to partake.  As Rey muffled a pained whimper at his side, Ben took in the artful sculpture that supported their feast. 

Bodies both alien and human twined frozen in a tableau of eroticism, a perfect miniature of extravagance and debauchery. There were more details and positions than Ben's brain could even follow, though he refrained from any reaction of his own as Rey shrank in her seat. The features of the tiny golden faces were detailed, expressions carved at moments of orgasm, and more than a few of the fountaining sauces were quite thoughtfully and skillfully designed to flow organically from sculpted erections and alien appendages. Right before them a platter filled with fragrant spiced meats was supported by the sculpted up thrust breasts and belly of an arched human woman, her legs spread wide and lifted high to hold a small second platter rimmed with small leafy morsels.  Everything between those legs was just as expertly rendered as the rest of her.

The servants were moving about the room serving drink now, their state of undress seeming less extreme as it had only moments earlier, and Ben took a deep breath and refused to show any discomfort.  This was an entirely different display of status than any he was accustomed to, though it certainly fell in line with the worst rumors he had heard about certain subsets of Aurelian high society.

Rey accepted a drink of some clear, bubbly liquid and didn’t even wait for Ben’s okay. She tipped it back, hoping the chill of it might help to leech some of the furious embarrassment from her skin.

“Your wife appears shocked, Master Tahn,” said the man Ben had been conversing with, now seated across from them. “Surely, you’ve introduced her to one or two of these positions before?”

“But they’re on their honeymoon, Dolos,” said the blonde woman. “Perhaps Sana is still innocent.”

Ben clenched his fists under the table, their insufferable commentary and constant condescension burying under his skin like little needles.  He longed to put them in their places, to wipe those stupid simpering smiles from their faces and watch them go wide with fear instead.  Once he would have made them crawl and beg forgiveness for their rudeness.  Up until now the endless necessity and formality of their time on Aurelia had been tiring, but manageable.  He had been focused on the rift between himself and Rey, or on the prize they were after.  It was beginning to feel less worth the humiliation they were putting themselves through.  Surely fear would loosen tongues as well as subterfuge...

Somehow he maintained a cold smile, inclining his head slightly.  "My wife has her modesties. It's part of her charm."

Rey felt Ben’s presence go dark through their bond. A chill of unease swept aside some of the embarrassment, and she snuck her hand to Ben’s wrist, gliding her fingers down to find his fist clenched. She burrowed her fingers inside, forcing him to loosen his fist.

“I’m...not accustomed to this amount of...candor. I was aware you see it as an art-form on Aurelia, but...I suppose it’s a failing of my culture to make judgements on what brings happiness to others. I’m still learning.” She put her other hand on Ben’s chest, sending him a little push of warning through the Force. “I hope I haven’t embarrassed you, Leyto?”

"Of course not, darling."  He reassured her, breaking his gaze away from the oblivious pair and looking towards her.  He laced his fingers through hers under the table where no one could see, letting her insistence pull him back from a line he still desperately wanted to cross.  It would be so much easier than all of... this.  Easier, and infinitely more satisfying.

He glanced back at the smug gentleman.  "And don't you find it begins to bore, after they know all the tricks?  Well, and after the hard use, as well."  Taking another sip of his drink, he turned his gaze to the petite woman.  "I see you are unaccompanied? I hope you had no difficulty finding a companion for the evening."  He mused coolly, feeling vengeful.

Rey sat a bit straighter, half shocked and half delighted at the insult Ben so casually lobbed. She should have felt a little ashamed at the delight, but when the blonde woman’s smirk curdled on her face, it was hard to deny the satisfaction.

“One does not always bring a guest to the Concierge’s dinners,” the woman said. “Partners, you will find, can be ordered with dessert.” She stabbed a bit of meat and swiped it delicately along the rivulets of sauce flowing from between the sculpted girl’s legs, her eyes finding Rey’s face as she placed the morsel between her lips. Rey stared, trying not to blush further, and failing.

She turned once again to Ben. “Does she mean she wants to order me?” she said in the delighted tone of someone who, at last, has gotten an answer right.

Ben laughed a bit darkly, turning to touch the end of Rey's nose cutely with one finger.  "Don't worry, dear.  The only one ordering you for anything will be me."

Feeling at least a little placated by the small thunderstorm brewing over their blond friend's head, Ben filled his own plate with a few choice selections from the centerpiece, studiously ignoring where he was taking them from.  He did the same for Rey, actually curious to see her try several of the delicacies.

One set of tiny savory pies reminded him of something he had often enjoyed on Chandrila and the briefest memory flashed unexpectedly through his mind.  Sneaking to the kitchens, filling his hands with hot morsels that burned his fingers as he ran away before the cooks could punish him....  then eating them alone on the roof of a far too large estate, waiting for parents that never seemed to come home when they said that they would.  

He shook the memory away and placed one small tartlet on Rey's plate.  They smelled the same, and he thought she would enjoy them.

"I hear you met the Concierge at the auction?"  A new voice from beside him spoke up, a small Sullustian watching him with interest.  "It was a fine auction."

Rey was grateful not to have to look at the serving dishes. She ate what Ben served her, looking up only to spy on what utensils were being used. She sensed the pang of nostalgia as he passed a small pastry onto her plate, and lifted it carefully in her fingers. It smelled savory, but with a tantalizing sweetness laced through the smell. When she bit into it, the flaky pastry seemed to melt into butter on her tongue, and the meat filling was unlike anything she’d ever tasted. Salty, with a rich sauce that held just the right amount of gingery spice.

She didn’t realize she’d made a noise until the Sullustian speaking with Ben leaned over to peer at her with his large, black eyes. Rey covered her mouth, hiding a sheepish smile as she chewed. She popped the rest of the pastry into her mouth and, when their conversation started again, snuck her hand beneath Ben’s arm and stole a second from his plate.

Ben spent most of the rest of the dinner talking with the soft-spoken alien whose political views seemed less extreme than the others with whom Ben had spoken.  Less extreme, but more insistent.  Before the third course of the meal had arrived, Ben was certain that they were more connected to the true First Order than the others had been, there was a curious practicality that drifted along the surface of their thoughts.  They steered the conversation deftly, sometimes speaking of useless things, at other times asking subtle questions that tested at Ben's motives.  

Once he was sure of his suspicions, Ben accompanied his answers with the faintest pressure from the Force, planting seeds of trust and shared interest into the back of the Sullustan's mind, watching the drooping flaps of his face relax comfortably.

"It was a pleasure, Master Tahn."  They finally broke from the conversation, pushing back their chair to stand.  "I really must find our lovely hostess and thank her for her efforts this evening, but perhaps we will meet again."

Ben nodded and watched him go, satisfied.  Turning his body towards Rey, Ben noted her incredibly clean plate.  He leaned towards her, appearing to those around them to kiss her cheek and whisper sweet nothings in her ear as he took a hand in his.

"We've made contact."  He whispered instead, lower than anyone could hear.  "If we have to jump through many more of these hoops before we find these bastards I'm going to start killing people."  He pulled back slightly and smiled at her, patting her hand fondly where those around them could see.

“I don’t like being the distraction,” she said through her teeth, feigning a smile as his breath fluttered the hair near her ear. “Your friend across the table keeps trying to take my shoes off. I’m certain I don’t want to know what that’s...” Some appendage glided around her calf, stroking. She shook it off, but it fluttered at the hem of her dress. With a carefully quick move, Rey caught it beneath her shoe and ground her foot hard. Down the table, a being twitched and whined. It had a squid like head so transparent she could see its brain, and the translucent flesh around it began turning a distressed shade of pink. She let the appendage go, and it reeled back. Rey smiled, reached for her fifth drink of the night, and downed half of it in a single gulp.

She was beginning to feel distinctly woozy. Between the fine food—which there wasn’t nearly enough of—and the impetus to keep lubricating her social interactions with alcohol, she foresaw a rather uncomfortable speeder trip home. She needed to eat. She needed to put more in her stomach to counteract the liqueur.

Spotting the tray of tarts, she took several more and munched through them. The first was the same one that Ben had given her, and elicited another voiced sigh of pleasure. The second tasted...different. Different but slightly familiar.

It wasn’t until she felt the flush creep lower in her body that she realized the sauce tasted strongly of the same Aurelian liqueur as the truffle she’d eaten before, only stronger. She sucked in a soft gasp as her body went gelatinous, sensitive, and warm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.
> 
> So. This shit is not legal anywhere but Aurelia. Three guesses who’s trafficked it before. ;)


	28. One Porg to Rule them All (and Lunch)

Ben cursed under his breath as Rey's cheeks went pink.  He hadn't been paying enough attention to stop her from eating the last tart, and the boiled-down Aurelian liqueur quickly worked through her. He had no idea how intense it was in this form, though judging what little he allowed to trickle through his walls was telling him it was, unfortunately, on the strong side.

On most other worlds the intense aphrodisiac was considered an illegal substance, and that was if you could even get it off world without Aurelian customs hunting you down.  He had vague memories of a time when Lando had been caught peddling the stuff on the inner worlds, the tongue lashing Leia had given him, and Han's awkward—and amused—attempts to explain to a very confused young Ben what Uncle Lando had done which was so bad.

Luckily the dinner seemed to be winding down, guests drifting back off to small conversations over dessert tables stacked with suggestively-shaped sweets.  Helping Rey carefully to her feet, Ben wrapped a supportive arm around her waist and tucked her against his side as he made the necessary polite excuses.  

"Poor dear!"  Their hostess purred when Ben found her, explaining that his wife was still quite sensitive to the local delicacies. Her look was all too knowing, and her smile made Ben once again consider mayhem as a tolerable alternative.

Rey could barely feel her feet. The room itself seemed to glow, every hard edge becoming soft, every sparkling dish or flickering gem turning into a beautiful haze of light. She was warm, and Ben was warmer.

He dragged her step by boneless step through the room, and Rey found her mind detaching from anything but the sensation of that powerful arm around her waist, and the alert nerves in her chest and side where she was pressed against him. She wound her arms around his rib cage, sighing as the velvety fabric lit up her fingertips.

She was pulsing all over, and so weightless that it felt like she was barely even walking. If anyone spoke to them, she didn’t hear. If Ben said words to her, they didn’t register beyond the lovely, deep vibration of his voice in his chest.

They were suddenly outside, beneath the violet sky with its veils of gold. A chill breeze brought up gooseflesh on her bare shoulder. She dug her hands beneath Ben’s coat, rearranging herself snugly against him, so his coat folded around her and his body pressed delightfully against hers.

He filled up her arms perfectly, and every part of him was made of hard, unyielding planes of muscle. She rubbed her face against his chest, delighted by the smell of him, the way his shoulders curved toward her so he could bend enough to hold on.

His hands burned lovely imprints into her waist and ribs. She wanted them everywhere. Her own hands seemed unwilling to remain still as she noticed the contours of Ben’s back.

It had been so horrible to have him angry with her, and now he didn’t feel angry, and that was...nice. That was good. It was exactly what she’d hoped would happen if they finally talked. She snuggled against him, running her hands up to cup his shoulder blades beneath his jacket, then down the length of his back, over his hips, lower... Yes. This was nice. He felt nice. Even the chill breeze and her dizzy head felt nice. She was melting into him, practically limp with the sensations trickling happily downward through her body.

Ben could feel the drug enhanced heat rising from Rey's skin, and it was becoming difficult to keep up with her hands as they explored him.  The press of her body against his own was intoxicating in its own right, the soft fabric of her dress molding to her curves as she pressed closer.  He was painfully aware of every place where she touched him, the soft swell of her breasts against his chest, her head tucked under his chin as her hands wondered shamelessly.

As their shuttle pulled up at the base of the stairs Ben did his best to disentangle himself from her, hands carefully pulling her arms away and trying to guide her to the shuttle doors.  She was like a kitten, doing her best to wind around him with every step.  Finally managing to get her tucked into her seat,  Ben briefly considered catching a separate shuttle home, but he couldn't leave her alone like this.  Her mind and presence were muffled, the liqueur she had consumed muddying the connection they shared.

With a sigh, Ben walked to the other side of the shuttle and settled in, bracing himself for a long ride home.  

She wasn’t sure quite how or when she ended up in Ben’s lap, she simply ended up there, her face buried in his neck, her body curled against his chest and hands buried in curls mysteriously freed of their tie. She liked the firmness of him against her, the way his body cradled hers, and the frisson through her nerves that sparked with every move of his hands or shift of his weight. She drew her face along his neck, making a soft track with the tip of her nose up the tendon to his ear.

By now, Poe would have had his hands in twelve different places not appropriate for polite company. He’d have found a couple with his mouth, too.

Rey made a soft whine, wishing Ben would do the same. The gathering coil of desire inside her was verging on unbearable, if Ben’s hair hadn’t felt like silk in her hands, she might have reached down and touched herself. It was never as good that way, but it was relief... And she had plenty of memories—a dark night on the falcon, Poe’s voice encouraging her as his rough, warm hands pinched at her nipples as she rubbed, first slowly, then in harder circles. He’d freed a breast from her shirt and asked her if she wanted his mouth and she’d said yes. The heat of it had sent a jolt through her. He’d covered her mouth, and she’d bucked into her own hands, rubbing frantically until finally...

Rey groaned, pressing hard into Ben’s chest as her body complied with the memory, insides rippling through a sudden, tight orgasm. She bit her lip, sucking in short breaths, feeling empty and desperate for real, physical touch, and unable to form the words to ask for it.

It had been impossible to keep Rey in her seat, and the weight of her settling into his lap as her hands slid into his hair set his nerves alight.  Her fingers were insisting and teasing, pulling at his curls and sending pangs of desire tingling down his spine.  It was so easy to slide his arms around her, to feel warmth radiating from her skin as he folded her close.  She smelled of liqueur and night air and some faint perfume that coiled around his senses and took hold.  

Ben's body betrayed him, blood running hot as need for her pooled in his groin, his defenses crumbling down around him.  She was all that he wanted, and soft whines of pleasure were falling from her lips and ghosting across the skin of his throat.  It would be so easy to pull her closer, to make her tremble in his arms and fold himself around her.  He wanted to taste the sweat of her skin, to pull away the frustrating layers of fabric between them and make her cry out with pleasure as he explored her body and discovered for himself what made her desperate.

Ben bit down on his lower lip hard, the flash of pain kept him from doing more than he already was. He held her, mind running through a thousand scenarios as she squirmed against him, the shifting of her hips making him hard with desire for her.  

Her nails on his scalp made his heartbeat thunder in his ears, and he ran his hands slowly up her arms, winding his fingers around her wrists and pulling her hands away.  He tucked them against his chest, trapping them between them where they—hopefully—couldn't get into too much trouble.  The confines of the shuttle seats helped somewhat at limiting her actions.

Focusing all the attention he could muster on the taste of blood in his mouth, the stiff ache in his hands, Ben's mind flooded with relief as the shuttle pulled up to the villa doors and came to a smooth stop.

"We're home, Rey." Ben whispered into her hair, nosing into the soft curls of it. Awkwardly he managed to struggle out of the shuttle door, Rey still wound around him.  He bent and lifted her fully into his arms, settling her against his chest.

Rey wound her arms around his neck, pressing her face into the delta of warm skin behind his jaw and ear. She was pulsing with desire, could feel him struggling to catch his breath. The clumsy connection through their bond was honeyed with want, and she found herself breathing into his hair, nipping at the soft lobe of his ear as he carried her inside. She wanted to feel a bed firm under her back, wanted to feel him settle over her, big body pressing down on every inch of her, lighting up those frantic nerve endings now curling in desire. She wanted to study the stiff erection she’d noticed while in his lap, feel it against her thigh, feel it press her open and sheath full and tight inside her. She could almost imagine it, churning into the deepest parts of her, hitting the web of nerves that suddenly seemed bright as a neon sign inside her.

She dug her fingers into his shoulder, biting softly at the skin beneath his ear, as if it would provoke him into faster action.

Ben stumbled slightly over the threshold as Rey's teeth found skin and all his better instincts threatened to disappear.  He wanted her.  It was simple and clear in his mind and body.  He wanted everything she was offering, and all the darkest parts of his soul hungered to give her what she was asking for.

As they entered the house RD trundled happily out of Rey's bedroom, oblivious to the situation at hand.  Walking straight up to it, Ben shoved Rey into its chest, the metallic white arms coming up automatically with a confused string of burbling beeps.  "Give her a cold bath."  Ben growled angrily at it, frustration coiling through his body.  "And put her to bed."

Turning on his heel he stalked to his own room, slamming the door behind him before leaning back against it and struggling to take deep breaths.  Not like this.  Not when she was not herself.  In all the times he had reached out to her, held out a hand and begged her to be his, he had always waited for her to take it on her own.  That was not something she had the ability to do right now.

Cursing, he headed for his own shower, pulling off the suddenly too-tight clothes he wore as he went.

The warmth of Ben’s arms were gone, and suddenly Rey found herself in the clutches of her beauty droid, who seemed determined to sequester her away. She struggled, desperation and fury rising in her at once as lust—foiled—cried out in frustration inside her. She was deposited on a stool, held steady as RD expertly finessed the buttons and zips of her clothing, releasing her from the hot confines.

The droid moved to the bath and Rey, leaning back against the counter, let her legs fall open. Her hand shook, gliding down her own belly, and despite the shimmer of physical delight as her fingers brushed over her sex, there was a part of her that wanted to whimper like an abandoned child. She rubbed a slow circle, head falling back into the counter as she let out a soft groan.

She wanted Ben. She knew he wanted her. Why the hell had he left her like this, half tortured by her own body? What she wouldn’t have traded, right then, for her fingers to belong to someone else. She closed her eyes, remembering how it felt to have a rough jaw between her thighs, a flat, wet tongue caressing her, lips soft and suckling. A groan escaped her, and her fingers moved more frantically, a groan escaping her as the person in her mind’s eye changed. It wasn’t Poe, his mouth on her, fingers rubbing expertly at that trigger spot inside her, but Ben. He would be different. He would be more insistent, less studious, his hands bigger, his reach deeper.

She shuddered through her third orgasm of the night, feeling her nipples tightening almost painfully. A few breaths later, RD was scooping her up, and the shuddering twitches still echoing through Rey’s body found sudden, rude banishment as she was dumped in a full tub of frigid water.

Icy water cooling his skin, Ben leaned his forehead shakily against the tiles of the expansive shower, drawing ragged breaths as he focused his attention on anything but the ghostly touches of Rey's lips against his skin.  He didn't want memories, or the imagination of her body pressed against his, legs wound around his waist.  No, he wanted the real thing.

Old habits took over, and Ben slowly clenched a fist, dragging his bruised knuckles against the shower tiles.  Pain flickered up his arm, rough pain that numbed his nerves as he clenched his teeth and tested his limits.  Rey was probably right, there was more damage there than fading bruises alone could account for, and he wasn't helping the process along.  But it took the edge off of his thoughts of Rey, and right now he needed that more than anything.  The split skin had healed, but his hands still ached most days, and as he pressed his hand into the tile he felt the weakness of the bone beneath.  He focused on it, embraced it, let the physical sensations ripple through him like a drug.

When the pain became too much he dropped his hand and turned off the freezing water, his body finally his own again.  

Shaking drops from his hair, he wound a towel around his waist and as he walked into his room the flashing message on his communicator caught his attention.  Settling onto his bed, he picked it up and slowly read it over.

_The pleasure of your company is requested at the annual Aurora Charity Ball for the benefit of those who have fallen from High Places.  A night of dancing and masquerade, accompanied by a personalized presentation by our Charity Founder, Chamberlain Octavius Serannus._

Accompanying the message were a date and time, as well as a small note concerning the exorbitant buy-in cost for the event.  Ben smirked.  If nothing else, at least they were finally almost to their goal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT WAS LANDO! That scalawag!
> 
> So, theories on the Oneporg? Based on the last few chapter titles, what’s do you think is happening back on the Falcon?
> 
> Also, we’re sorry (sort of) for the tease. But come on, you know it was too early!


	29. Moon Porg Equilibrium

Rey woke to a body that felt wrung out, and a head that pounded like a stampeding hapabore. The tines of a brush made their way across her scalp, and something like a warm wet cloth was wiping at her face. She groaned, waving away the beauty droid’s ministrations, and sat up. A drip of some thick cream slid from her face and landed on her naked thigh. Rey snatched the wet cloth and wiped the rest of the gunk clumsily from her face.

There were a few more minutes of blissfully hungover misery before memory slid back into place. She’d been at dinner. Then she’d been hugging Ben outside. Then...blast, she’d been in Ben’s lap, pawing at him, mewling like a kitten, desperate for him to touch her. No, not just touch her. She’d wanted him to fuck her senseless. Thank every god she’d been too helplessly incoherent to tell him so, though there was no way he hadn’t figured it out.

Humiliation descended over her like a nauseating blanket. She pressed her hands to her face, then drew them away—they smelled like sex, musky and intoxicating. An image slammed into her mind, Poe’s head between her legs, his near-black eyes sparkling as he looked up at her and smirked, then went right back to ruining her with his tongue. But the Poe in her head changed to Ben, and she’d touched herself, again and again, riding the high of the drug as she imagined him wrecking her with his tongue and his hands. She’d fallen asleep exhausted and unsatisfied, her body clenching around nothing as she sobbed helplessly into her pillow.

Never again. She was never eating anything on this stupid planet that Ben didn’t try first. She was never drinking again.

And how the hell was she supposed to look Ben in the face when she’d spent half the night sweating into her sheets, imagining his tongue inside her?

For once, she let RD do what it wanted. Rey stewed in her private misery, drinking the tonics and submitting to the facial toners and neck massages and eye creams and hand scrubs without complaint. It felt almost nice, and she could see why someone with nothing better to do with their time might submit to this sort of pampering daily. If she hadn’t been so assiduously putting off seeing Ben, she probably wouldn’t have let it go on so long.

RD chose her beloved black silk pants and a red shirt comprised of several bands of stretchy fabric that offered slashes of visible skin here and there around Rey’s torso. She stared at it, wondering if she actually looked elegant in it, or if her mind was simply warped by the shocking display from the night before.

She slipped on her short black boots with the slight heel, and let RD work her hair back into a pair of combs. She didn’t realize anything odd was happening until a sudden, pinching pain shot through her left earlobe.

Rey leapt from the side of the bed with a yelp, snatched up the vanity stool, and backed toward the door.

“What in hells, Ardee?” She shouted, reaching back behind her for the door as the droid held up a sparkling black earring. Rey recognized it as part of the set Ben had purchased on that first disastrous shopping venture. She reached up, and felt its twin embedded in her ear.

“No,” she said. “I don’t want...” RD advanced. Rey reached for the door and backed out of it, stumbling over a runner carpet. “Get away from me!”

The sudden commotion on the other side of Rey's door made Ben look up sharply from where he had been settled comfortably on the couch with a hot cup of dark kava.  He had spent the morning digging up as much information as possible on Chamberlain Octavius, the host of the gala and--hopefully--the target they had been looking for.  

The door slammed open and Rey backed out, one hand clamped to the side of her head as she tripped and almost fell.

"What the hell is going on?"  Ben snapped irritably, trying to figure out the scene before him.  

"She won't hold still!"  RD stated amiably, still pursuing her target with single minded focus.

Rey swung the stool at RD. “She won’t listen to me! Tell her to back off, I don’t need—“ another swing “—holes in my ears!” Rey skipped backwards a few steps, drawing RD out into the open. With a quick move, she tossed the stool in the droid’s direction, then ducked around behind it, snatching at the back of it’s neck. She froze, hand on the deactivation button. “Don’t make me do this, RD. I’ll dismantle you into a thousand pieces and throw your processor into the canal before—OW!”

The droid struck, perfectly, with the second earring. Rey slapped the deactivation button, furious.

Ben smirked, uncoiling his long legs from the couch and standing.  "Better to have both than just one."  He shrugged.  "Then you'd just be lopsided."  

Looking at the slumped droid, he sighed.  "What's done is done, Rey.  You can turn her back on."  

It was easier to talk about the droid and her antics than whatever had gone on the night before.  Maybe Rey was lucky enough not to remember...  the drugs and alcohol had hit her pretty hard.  Hard enough that Ben was certainly having difficulty not thinking about the way her body had felt against him, especially as the shirt the droid had put her in did absolutely nothing to hide that body.  Clearing his throat, he moved towards the villa's kitchenette to get her a mug.  She probably had one hell of a headache.

“She’s staying off until I need her,” she said. Swallowing, she watched through the wisps of hair falling around her face as Ben made his way into the kitchen and back with a fresh mug.

She couldn’t look at him. Even as he handed the mug to her, and their fingers brushed on the hot ceramic. Fingers she’d imagined on her last night, in her. She squeezed her eyes shut to shove the image away. The air between them felt charged, as if any wrong move or word might crack the air with lightning. He was still standing there, just an arm’s length away.

His gloves were off, at least, displaying the bruises on the backs of his hands.

“I meant to work on your hands last night,” she said. Then, realizing that statement could be taken the wrong way, rushed to continue. “There’s a med kit in the kitchen. Go sit down. Fill me in on what actually happened with the contact last night. You’ve got scheming face this morning.”

She ducked into the kitchen and snagged the med kit, then met him at the small bistro table at the little nook next to one of the villa’s many balconies. The doors were open, a sweet-smelling breeze wafting in from some nearby plum orchard. She took a deep sip of khav, letting the scent and warmth of it ground her. Her headache started to abate at last, and she reached across the table for one of Ben’s hands.

He extended it to her, the awkward tension in the air almost visible.  Her fingers were warm as they carefully held his hand, reminding him of more desperate touches.  

Re-ordering his thoughts, he focused on the discomfort as he filled her in on the message he had received the night before.  

"We'll want to get in contact with this man directly, from the research I've done my guess is he is one of the major players on world.  He'll be the one with direct First Order connections."

Rey listened, processing the information as she went through the steps read out on the data pad’s analysis of Ben’s injuries.

“What’s a masquerade?” She asked, sliding the minuscule needle in through his skin. It was a careful thing, and she let her senses expand, guiding it into place half with the screen schematic, half with the Force. When it reached the cracked bone, she depressed the button, which released the cells and nanites to begin the fast-construction of a matrix between the cracked bone.

When she withdrew the needle, part of her wanted to keep hold, to stroke his skin with her fingers and soothe the wounds now shuddering in her senses.

Bracing himself against the pain, Ben watched her work.  "Ah... it's a fancy dance.  Everyone wears ridiculous dresses and full masks so that no one knows who they are.  In theory, at any rate."  He glanced up at her.  "That means shopping again..."

It was hard not to take her hand as she let his go, to reassure her.  Embarrassment and anxiety still bled off of her, clearly she remembered.

He extended his other hand to her, letting her repeat the process slowly.  As she finished he gave up, lacing his fingers through hers and holding her in place.

"Rey, stop worrying."  He tried to get her to look at him.  "The effects of Aurelian Liqueur are powerful, they would affect anyone."

She stared down at their clasped hands, humiliation rolling up her back. She couldn’t look up, didn’t want to see his face as he reassured her.

“I was horrible,” she whispered. “After everything we talked about, and... I had no control. None. I should have been more careful. Not only did I not help at all with making the contact, the way I reacted to the liqueur was...” she shook her head. “I’m not sure how I would have reacted this morning if you hadn’t pushed me away. I could have done a lot of damage. To both of us.”

She took a deep breath and blew it out, wishing RD hadn’t put her hair back yet, so she could hide behind it. “You said to give you time. I need time too. But that stuff—it erases everything around you, and you can’t think about anything except what you’re feeling, and even then, no matter what happens, all you want is more. I thought I was going insane before I finally managed to fall asleep.”

"It's done."  Ben said calmly, knowing that too much attention to on the subject would only make her more uncomfortable.  "Whatever could have happened didn't, and one way or another we did make the contact we needed."  He squeezed her hand lightly with stiff fingers before letting her go and standing slowly.

"Now we have preparations to make, the gala is tomorrow evening.  How are the repairs coming on the Betrayal?"

Glad for the change in subject, Rey stood as well. A hand went to her still-smarting ear lobes. “A body paneling expert will have to come in to fix any of the visual damage, but she’ll fly right. I don’t really have much left to do.”

She fell into step with him. “What sort of preparations?”

He glanced at her sideways, relieved to feel her tensions slowly fading.  The memory of the night before still lingered uncomfortably, but it was something they could move past.  

"More shopping, I'm afraid."  He poked the button on RD as they moved past, and the droid came to life mid-sentence, then looked around in droidish confusion.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Ben turned to face Rey, delivering the news he knew she wasn't going to like.  "We need to get our host alone, have a... private... conversation.  You're the bait."

Rey stared up at him just long enough to confirm he was serious. Then, her composure crumbled.

A squeak of laughter wheezed from her, followed by a bubbling continuation that caused RD to flit helplessly around her doubled-over mistress, squawking about mascara.

Rey couldn’t help it—all the bumbling, blushing, and deferring she’d done while playing the role of Sana, and Ben thought she could muster the aplomb to suddenly pose as bait? That was a role played by women with more deft lying capabilities, women who knew how to wield a flick of the eyelash as well as a blaster. Women who could hold their liquor and their objective at the same time.

Rey was none of those things. She was straightforward and honest and terrible at pretending to be anything else.

She braced herself on RD’s metallic shoulder as the droid produced a handkerchief and blotted at her mistress’s face.

Ben frowned at her, taken aback by her reaction.  It was not the one he had expected.  

"I've been researching his habits, we can make some assumptions about his tastes based on the purchases he has made recently.  One of the information brokers I've paid rather well informs me he has a bit of a... weakness for otherwise engaged women."  Ben cleared his throat. 

Sniffing, Rey forced herself back to a semblance of sobriety. “I hope he has a weakness for women who’ve got no idea how to behave in high society, because that’s the only way he’ll look twice at me,” she said, then chuckled again. “I’m a horrible choice for bait.”

Ben blinked at her, realizing just how oblivious she was.  He sighed, holding back amusement as he tried again, much more bluntly.

"He likes married women, Rey.  He likes to steal them from their husbands to prove he can.  He'll probably see your... inexperience as making you an even easier target."

Rey’s eyebrows lifted. “He...ah. Like that Twilek girl at the shop?” She nodded. “But there will be lots of married women there, right? How am I going to make sure he chooses me instead of the others? I don’t exactly have...” What did Finn call them? “Feminine wiles.”

"That's where the shopping comes in."  Ben smirked, picking up the data pad he had working at all morning.  "Based on the kinds of gifts he buys for his paramours, I have some idea of his tastes.  We make sure you fit them.  Then, once we're there, you'll make conversation.  He won't be able to resist your naivety.  We'll know which he is by the welcome toast he'll be performing to greet his guests.  You can ask him to dance."

“I can’t ask him to dance!” Rey said, reaching for the front door. “I don’t know how.”

She stepped onto the front landing and descended toward the approaching speeder. “Maybe there’s something else I can ask him to do? Like...explain a piece of art or something. Men seem to love explaining things.”

Opening the door for her, Ben shook his head.  "It's a dance, Rey.  Dancing is what is done."  Moving around the speeder he settled into his own seat, directing the nav console towards the most elite shopping district.  It was time to take advantage of the token Madam Concierge had gifted them with at their first meeting.

"Just let him lead and try not to fall over.  Your efforts will be endearing."

“Better make sure whatever unholy footwear I’m in doesn’t have sharp heels,” she said. “Unless your plan is for me to spike him to the dance floor to keep him from running away.”

The mental image that accompanied her words wasn't entirely unpleasant.  Ben already hated their target, his extravagant tastes and back room deals.  He had taken up residence on Aurelia nearly ten years prior, and since then had established himself as a rather well-known art collector and contributor.  He was known for his commitment to both governmental aspirations and 'charity', and Ben couldn't help but wonder how long he had been a big player in the funding of the First Order.  Frowning, a new thought crossed Ben's mind.  Had this always been one of their many revenue streams?  Before they had fallen apart?

Ben realized he had never considered the sources of their wealth and influence, he had taken it for granted as he assumed Snoke's position.  He had been focused on destruction, on the anger that drove his careless decisions-- He had left the day to day matters to Hux.  Now he was beginning to wish he had actually paid more attention to the details.  It would explain how the First Order--even in its current state-- had managed to make contact with Aurelia... if it was contact they had possessed all along.

Feeling an annoyed headache building behind his eyes, Ben rubbed his temple with his fingers and watched Rey's hands fidget nervously in her lap.  She was always uncomfortable here, out of her element.  He would be glad to be done with this planet, to get her back out into the wilds of space where she belonged.  Where she shone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little bit of an interstitial chapter here, but hey. You’ll get a SHOPPING CHAPTER later today!
> 
> What kind of dress do you think Rey’s going to end up in? What do you think Ben is going to make her try on just for his own self-gratification?
> 
> WILL SHE GET A CHANCE FOR VENGEANCE SHOPPING?


	30. 60 Porgs (Moon Porgs Bow to Their Leader)

At first, Rey was relieved that they didn’t seem to be heading for the shop with the eager Twilek, but as the speeder zoomed at roof-height along increasingly clean thoroughfares, the prevalence of rooftop cafes and sleek shop windows caused her to squint. These boutiques seemed to show off actual goods, their facades made of transparisteel rather than over-edited hologram adverts of the more common shops in the tourist hub.

The streets were polished slabs of marble inset with narrow conveyance belts, should shoppers wish to glide rather than walk. There were hover carts with long handles, drawn by beings of every race, decked out in purple and gold livery of the district. Rey spied a rooftop cafe which seemed to host exclusively groups of well-dressed women who required tiny secondary tables with tiny secondary treats for the variety of creatures spilling fuzzily from their handbags.

At last, the speeder came to a smooth automated stop at the top of a marble-tiled hill, before a slim boutique guarded by four separate liveried beings. Two humans, a Rodian, and a Gammorrian glared out at a small gaggle of interested clients, all of them peering through the transparisteel display at a wisp of a gown that shifted colors as the light hit it from different angles.

“Is someone guarding deadly fashion secrets back there?” Rey asked. “Maybe if they lost a guard, they could afford a few vowels for their name.”

Ben shrugged.  "Don't look at me.  I did a little snooping, enough to know this was the place to get gowns if you wanted to stand out in a crowd.  That, and I'll know what we need when I see it.  Beyond that..."  He shot her a slightly helpless look.  "Trust me Rey, I only look like I know what I'm doing here when compared to you."

Helping her out of the shuttle he swept her past the curious shoppers and up to the guards at the boutique doors. He held out the small token, setting his shoulders arrogantly. " We have an appointment. " 

The Rodian snapped up the coin in her paws, sniffed it, and seemed satisfied that it was real. She gestured Ben and Rey up the silver-chased stairs as the Gammorian and one human guard drew open the dark wooden doors.

Rey blinked in the relative darkness, holding onto Ben’s arm a bit tighter as the scents of delicate flowers and leather and fabric filled her sinuses. Her dark vision had been utterly annihilated by the sparkling daylight, and she felt almost as if she were descending into a pool of blackness.

What was it with dark pools and mirrors that seemed to go together in her consciousness? And why was this den of fashion more frightening than the grotto on Ach-To?

A chandelier shone out from the relative murk, and Rey was slightly relieved to find it more understated than the gaudy, gem-dripping monstrosities she’d seen this far. It was a simple net of opalescent gems, dangling from a silver x. Each gem seemed to create its own light, glowing individually on the strand.

As her vision adjusted, Rey found herself standing in a room draped with silk in wide vertical stripes of alternating dusky gray and charcoal. The floor was a pristine pale wood, polished to glowing and scattered with fluffy white throws.

What she didn’t see where mannequins, or dresses. Just a single pedestal and a single mirror, with a curvaceous chair upholstered in black silk.

They appeared to be alone.

"Welcome, guests!"  The voice came from a side alcove, where a curtain suddenly drew back to reveal a petite man in the most... elaborate of outfits.  His vibrantly checkered jacket was high collared, the stiffened sleeves ballooning out like wings at the shoulders.  The short pants he wore formed bells to his knees, where they met a pair of disconcertingly pink boots.  Ben blinked at him, at a loss for words.

"I don't usually take last minute requests..."  He sniffed, but as he stepped down from the last stair now visible in the alcove behind him he paused, heavily made-up eyes widening as they swept down Rey's body.  His demeanor shifted as he hurried towards them, circling her with a flurry of thoughtful sounds.  The top of the little man's head barely came up to Ben's chest, but he made up for his size with energy and presence.  "Oh oh oh oh oh!"  He exclaimed, taking Rey's hand and drawing her forward.  "Yes yes, I'd be delighted to work with you!  So lovely, such potential!"  He spun her in a circle and Ben caught the slightly panicked glance she shot his way.

"My wife requires a gown appropriate for a masquerade gala."  Ben said, stepping forward to distract the excitable designer.  "We're looking for something-"

Ben's words were cut off as the man switched tracks, suddenly flurrying around him in a similar fashion.  Ben could barely keep up as the man circled him, and he jumped as hands were suddenly reaching up to test his shoulders, to feel his arms.  "Such a shame I usually specialize in womenswear!"  The little man moaned regretfully.  "But I do dabble, yes, I do!  Perhaps after you have chosen something for the lady, she would like to see my small collection for men?"  He flicked his eyes back to Rey, beaming happily.

Rey was somewhat comforted by the shock and fear mirrored on Ben’s face. Vengeful glee swept over her with an inspiring wave of mischief and she grinned full bore at the effervescent little designer, taking in his expertly quaffed white hair and gem-studded eyebrows.

“Absolutely! It’s so rare I get to dress my husband. I’m always his doll, and he’s always so...” she milled her hand in the air, as if searching for the perfect word, “staid.”

The designer giggled, swatting the back of Ben’s thigh, dangerously close to his rear. “We’ll loosen up those stays, my dear, if you’ll forgive the wordplay!”

Ben was still scrambling to clear the shock from his brain and find his cool again as the designer shuffled the both of them quickly towards the deep black love seat.  As he saw them settled he clapped his little hands, and an employee seemed to materialize out of nowhere.  

"Something to drink?"  The staff member asked politely, a smile on her face.  "Some wine perhaps?  Or something lighter, as it is yet early?"

Marshalling his thoughts, Ben replied while keeping half his attention on the designer who was happily moving around the edge of the room.  He refused to be unprepared if the man came at him again, feeling handsy.  "Something without alcohol, we have a bit of a day ahead of us."

Nodding, the shop staff disappeared through another curtain.  

"Let me explain how this works to you, my dear customers!"  The designer scampered back into sight, handing a sleek datapad to Ben before gathering up Rey's hands and pulling her off the couch.  "All of my designs are one of a kind--of course--and as such have never even been made!  My wonderful staff will help you..."  He lifted a ringed hand to Rey's cheek and patted it fondly, "...into a simple holographic projection suit.  You will stand there, and your  _gorgeous_  husband will be able to try designs on you right from the screen.  It's the best way to ensure they fit you perfectly, every time!  When you've found something you  _adore_ , we'll take your measurements, and have it made just for you!"

His gushing style of speech was making Ben's head spin, but he glanced down at the datapad in his hands with interest.  

Rey was still shaping her mind around the idea of a holographic projection suit when two assistants shuffled her into another hidden nook in the room, then into a second small dressing chamber. She was handed what appeared to be a transparent, shrunken bathing suit and pair of flaccid vinyl stockings roughly large enough for a toddler. When she pushed her foot into them, however, the fabric stretched and formed to her body.

On went the stocking, then the bathing suit, and she looked down in dismay at the clear fabric. It covered absolutely nothing—she could see the hair on her groin and the mauve aureoles of her nipples. The stocking, however, seemed to be analyzing her. It tightened subtly in places, lifting and relaxing in others, and slowly frosted over at the abdomen and torso with a subtle milky color that faded as it reached her shoulder and thigh.

Relieved that she wouldn’t be parading about naked but for the projection, Rey followed the assistants back into the main room.

The instant she looked in the mirror, she wanted to cover herself. The suit left few contours to the imagination. There were the divots of her hipbones, and the slight attention of her nipples, responding to stress. Her muscled stomach and thighs were shown in every shimmered curve, and she felt the suit clinging rather tellingly to her rear and privates.

She swallowed, stepped onto the pedestal, and ignored Ben’s gaze.

Ben dropped his gaze quickly to the datapad's screen as Rey was escorted back out.  Even though she was--technically--covered in all the right places, the sight of her body brought back the feel of it against his own the night before.  Shifting uncomfortably, Ben frowned down at the small screen as he slowly flipped through the dress sketches looking for something that worked.  He paused over a red dress, pressing the selection that sent it up to Rey's suit.  As it slowly materialized around her, he cocked his head consideringly.

Drapes of red silk collected at her right shoulder, falling to her waist where it was belted with a wide sash stitched with dark crystals.  the draping was mirrored on the other side, but left a wide slash of exposed skin from her neck to her left hip as the plunging neckline dipped between her breasts and across her stomach.  the left side of the dress evolved into a  delicate pattern of the same dark crystal, tracing down her arm in a single sleeve.

It was elegant, sexy, and though Ben felt it didn't suit her at all, it would certainly catch the interest of their target.  He went back to looking through their other options as Rey turned to look at the dress herself.

Rey nearly fell off the pedestal as she caught sight of the dress. It was unreasonably beautiful, but...so much skin was on display. She glanced at Ben, wondering what he thought of it, and found him studying the datapad.

Well. Clearly it hadn’t gotten his attention. If she couldn’t catch the interest of a man who already liked her, how could she hope to snare the eye of a man who didn’t know her from a walking dress rack?

She peered back at the dress, sketching her gaze over the arc of flesh exposed across her torso. She poked at her stomach, and the hologram rippled around her finger. Finn’s jaw would hit the floor. Poe would have given her the sort of once-over that made her toes curl with embarrassed delight.

Ben was still flicking through the screens, ignoring her completely. It was a little disheartening, and a little annoying. Of everyone, the person whose attention she actually wanted was Ben, and he didn’t seem to find her particularly interesting. Last night, she’d been getting herself off in his lap, and he’d still been able to toss her at the droid.

She knew he liked her, maybe even loved her... but what if she was wrong about him wanting her? Rey bit her lip, looking down at the holographic black crystals studding the hem of the dress, battling back an absurd desire to hunch and slink away.

She was starting to hate shopping. All these pretty dresses seemed to only highlight deficiencies she’d never noticed. They made her feel afraid, and insufficient. Without meaning to, she reached out little tendrils toward Ben, needing to secure herself to him, to confirm that he was there, that he wasn’t going to find her lacking, or if he did, that he wouldn’t leave because of it.

Ben felt the whispers of discomfort and insecurity against his shields and he let them open slightly to soothe Rey's emotions.  Clearly she felt the same as he did, the dress, for all its beauty, didn't do her justice at all.  Clearing away the option, Ben continued to quickly shuffle through designs, chewing on his bottom lip thoughtfully.  He hesitated as one flashed past, then scrolled back to it.  It wouldn't do for the gala at all.  There was nothing exotic or sexual about the long gown, layers of pale cream and blush chiffon that would hug the curve of the upper body from throat to waist before falling freely in ripples to the floor.  An overlay of sheer fabric embroidered with wondering sprays of blue and silver flowers covered the entirety of the gown, dark stems creating an elegant pattern.  From the back of each shoulder fell a long sheer trail of the same cream fabric, almost creating the illusion of delicate wings.

Ben glanced up at Rey, watching her shift uncomfortably from foot to foot.  No, the pale gown would never do for the masquerade, but it couldn't hurt to have a little fun, right?  Against his better judgement he pressed the selection and watched as it formed to her body.  

It took Ben a moment to realize he was staring.  The gown was made for her, the subtle colors bringing out the flush of her cheeks and darkness of her eyes.  She was beautiful, and his breath caught in his throat as he briefly met her eyes.  He saw a flash of something... curiosity?  in them as she met his gaze, then started to turn to see what he was seeing.

Embarrassment and a strange sort of panic flooded him, and Ben quickly erased the selection before she could get a good look.

Rey caught the barest hint of pale peach before the selection vanished. Ben had had an odd look in his eyes when considering it, somehow intense and distant all at once, as if he were seeing a vision of something inside his mind. A curious sort of anxiety rippled from him, and she found the little tendrils she’d sent out, which he’d almost offhandedly wound around his mind like string, shaken away.

She frowned, only to find herself patted on the shoulder by the effervescent designer. “That one was too subtle for a gala, yes? But there is one I simply must put you in! Sir Tahn, if you would scroll to number 1431? The gilded one. I believe it will suit her divinely!”

Pulling up the number, Ben didn't look too closely before moving it from the screen to the holographic suit.  As it rendered, Ben raised an eyebrow and swept his gaze down Rey's body.  Leaning back, he draped an arm over the back of the couch and stared openly.  It was a dress which begged to be stared at, and on Rey it was breathtaking.

"Well."  He said smoothly, setting the datapad down.  "You have... impeccable tastes, it's exactly what we were looking for."  With a smirk, he waited for Rey's inevitable reaction.

Rey glanced at the glass and let out a squeak of surprise.

The dress was comprised of golden cloth. Like her blue dress, it was off one shoulder, but the swoop continued to expose one breast, which was cupped in a length of sheer golden chiffon strategically studded with amber gemstones. On the same side, a slit nearly reached her hipbone, framed in he same sheer fabric, so that the entirety of one leg stood in the open. The gown was floor length and so intricately folded and gathered that it didn’t look like it should move.

Her arm came up at once to cover her exposed-feeling breast. “No, no, no,” she said. “I can’t—“

“Of course you can!” The designer gushed. “In fact, you must! A body like yours does not walk into my shop every day—so willowy and ethereal! Why, I will make you look like a golden berry simply ripe for the plucking. Look, see how your husband stares? He wants to pluck you from the vine right now.” A wink, and the designer snapped up the tablet. “I’ll have the machines build a dress form to your measurements.”

"Technically everything that should be is covered..."  Ben mused, still taking it in.  Standing, he walked to the platform and joined her, moving behind her to look at her in the mirror.  The top of her hair brushed along his chin, and he rested his hands on her tense shoulders.  "You look stunning."  He said softly.  "He won't be able to resist you."

She relaxed a bit at the touch, liking the feel of him standing behind her, and liking the way the bond between them was starting to go warm and slack. As the designer vanished into the back, Rey met Ben’s gaze in the mirror. His hands were huge on her shoulders, which looked bare in the projection. She almost wished they were, so she could feel the warmth of his skin on hers.

Something magnetic was tugging between them, and though his words were alarming—she wasn’t sure she wanted to be irresistible to some strange man—when she looked him in the eyes, she felt it. He was speaking for more than just the old man. He was speaking for himself as well.

Tentatively, she let her hands find his, drawing them down from her shoulders. Curious, anxious, and still feeling a bit vengeful for her unstable confidence, she tugged his arms around her waist and stepped back, leaning into his chest. “Just to him?” she asked quietly, barely turning her head, so she could see just the edge of his nose and chin in her periphery.

Ben tensed, feeling the muscles of her abdomen through the thin fabric of the holosuit.  She felt comfortable in his arms, as though she belonged here, and he continued to watch her in the mirror.  "Not just to him."  He said quietly, enjoying the bond that was slowly building between them again.

"You two are precious!"  The designer effused, and with a sigh, Ben reluctantly let Rey go as the dress faded and the man scurried up and handed Rey a soft shawl to drape over her bare shoulders and the thin fabric of the suit.  There was a wicked glint in the man's eyes that made Ben nervous.  

"And now, my Dear Mistress Tahn, it’s your turn to have a little fun!"  The man shooed her back to the couch with entirely too much delight.

Rey’s eyes narrowed with catlike smugness as she flicked her fingers at Ben in a shooing motion, gesturing him toward the back room. She could still feel the imprint of his hands on her stomach, the breath on her neck, and the way his voice had vibrated his chest, shivering the words down her entire back.  _“Not just to him.”_

Being irresistible to Ben Solo. That might make the uncomfortably provocative dress worth it. She tried to memorize her feelings in that moment, the warm, almost smug security of knowing Ben hadn’t wanted to let her go. That he thought she was...what word had he used? Stunning. That was it. That was a word she’d never put to herself before, not one she’d tried on for a fit.

She tucked it away, pleased with it, and accepted a data pad from the designer.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Call me Ivigio, my darling thing,” he said. “We are going to be friends, I’ve decided. Hmm, I think we can rule out anything pale. He’s too fair, hair too dark. It won’t look right. We want drama for a gala. Perhaps with something gold in the detail to match your dress.”

With a few finger swipes, he had narrowed the selection down considerably. Twenty outfits. She flicked through, tagging the ones she wanted to put Ben in. One or two were definitely not contenders, but she didn’t think she’d get to see him in Rancor-skin pants in any other way.

As the staff assistant handed him the tight-fitting suit and pulled the curtain closed behind her, Ben glared after her.  This was not the experience he had signed up for.  Sighing, he looked down at the scrap of transparent silicone fabric in his hand and wondered who he was becoming.  Even a few months ago he would have flat out refused, the humiliation of being on display far outweighing anything else.  But something he wasn't quite ready to examine had changed in him, and he reluctantly went about undressing.

It was only fair, really...  Rey had been through enough similar distress over the last week to last a lifetime.  Not so long ago--though it seemed like forever--Ben had hoped for them to have a little fun playing with the luxury of Aurelia's extremes.  That had all been swept away, but maybe it wasn't too late to try.  Rey's mischievous smile as he had been led away was almost worth it.  She had looked almost... happy, again.

Ben shifted uncomfortably as the fabric molded and adjusted itself to him from neck to knees, though only from the waist down did it bother with an opaque shift in texture and color.  A flicker of memory tugged at him, the shock and flushed horror on Rey's face the first time she had intruded on him in his chambers on Snoke's command ship. She had barely been able to handle a shirtless man without dying of embarrassment, and honestly, she hadn't done much better on Artas, though then she had blamed it on the orphan children's' delicate sensibilities.

Smirking, Ben gave up procrastinating and stepped through the curtain onto the small platform.  Maybe it would be worth it to watch her squirm again.

Rey glanced up as Ben walked out, and of not for Ivigio’s careful hand pressing suddenly into her arm, she would have looked away.

Stunning. There was that word again. But it felt different applied to Ben. She felt literally stunned. Smacked in the head by a staff, jolted with an electric shock. She might have been hit full in the face by the stunning beam from a blaster, and felt marginally more sensible than she felt now, staring at Ben in all his nearly-nude shamelessness.

Unfairly, the suit didn’t seem to suction and mold around the crotch the same way it had for Rey, but she found herself absurdly grateful for the continued mystery. There was enough contour to suggest exactly what he was carrying without revealing details, and she wasn’t surprised to find that, proportionally, everything downstairs seemed to be right on track with the rest of him.

Not that she had a great cross section of masculinity to compare him to, but if the sculptures at Madam Concierge’s dinner were any standard to measure by, he seemed in good company. The designer’s tightening grip on her arm and openly delighted staring seemed to suggest his agreement that Ben was a specimen to be admired and swathed in expensive fabric...if only to then be removed from said fabric in as rapid a fashion as possible.

Rey was too discombobulated to do more than give Ben a half grin of amusement before swiping to her first selection, a long, double breasted coat of deep green with white trousers and tall, mahogany boots. Gold embroidery at the shoulders and cuffs, along with a twin row of buttons, suggested a vaguely military style. The tight black waistcoat showed beneath the high cut front of the jacket, and was complimented by a patterned black neck cloth with a single emerald stud pinning it down.

She tilted her head, considering. He looked like a lieutenant. Or a prince.

Ben found a smug sort of enjoyment in the way they watched him, from the stifled embarrassment and interest that Rey tried to hide.  Glancing at the ensemble that she had put him in, Ben shook his head.  He would let her have her fun, but he would insist on veto power if she tried to get her revenge.

He thought back to the pale gown that had stolen his breath away and wondered if she were testing similar ideas, looking for what she liked, not what they needed. Oddly, the thought that she might be made him feel far more tolerant of the whole process, and he began to relax as she took her time, occasionally whispering conspiratorially with the beaming designer.

Rey settled on a suit of deep, twilight blue that reminded her a bit of the shirt she’d once bought him. The trousers were snug, but the velveteen coat was long, almost robe-like, and fitted to his waist with the same sort of wide belt that always seemed to emphasize his height. This belt was a hand’s breath of dark, quilted leather beneath a slim cord of gold silk. The black shirt beneath fit slim and close to his neck, where a neck cloth of subtle pattern was pinned into place with a single sapphire set into gold.

It was, in some ways, reminiscent of the silhouette he’d worn as Kylo Ren, but softened and finished, brightened and stitched into deep jeweled tones that made her want to bury herself in his arms just to feel surrounded by that color.

“I like this one,” she said. “Husband? Opinion?”

Looking it over, Ben nodded approvingly.  The gold along the waist would accent her revealing gown quite well, and he liked the way the color looked on him.  He definitely preferred dark colors.

With that decided, Ben moved back through the curtains to change into his regular clothes.  As he was finishing up, the designer suddenly ducked into the changing area and Ben let out a stifled curse, startled. 

"Apologies, apologies!"  Ivigio held out his hands placatingly, a smile playing about the corner of his lips as he dropped his voice.  "I couldn't help but notice the blush dress your young lady tried on earlier..."  He arched an eyebrow and leaned in conspiratorially.  "I know perhaps it is not appropriate for your gala... but it was clear to us both that I practically had her in mind when designing it!"

Ben frowned, crossing his arms defensively over his chest.  "Your point is?"

"Well I had considered that as we already have Mrs. Tahn's dress-form customized, perhaps you might wish to...  buy the lady a surprise?  An anniversary, or a birthday gift?"

Ben almost laughed at the idea.  Once they had left this planet behind, what cause would Rey have for such an unnecessary and extravagant piece?  But the image of her in it tickled at the back his mind... and the desire to see her in it again, not as Sana Tahn, but as the Jedi Rey, tall and proud and beautiful.

How the hell was he supposed to give her an 80000 credit dress?  He couldn't even figure out how to give her a fucking  _vest_. 

Growling, he scrubbed his hand through his hair in irritation. 

"Fine, add it to my tab." He tried to ignore Invigio's smug and knowing nod.  This was going to turn into the most damnably expensive porg nest ever made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a Pinterest board to go with all the fashion choices we’ve made or which inspired the fashions here. If you want to follow along, here it is: https://www.pinterest.com/lscribeharris/reylo/described/
> 
> How tall do you think the heels they put her in are gonna be? Will she be able to walk?


	31. 60 Porgs (Dark Spoon Rising)

Masks came next, and Invigio insisted upon sending them to his particular friend, to whose shop he transferred the designs of their masquerade garb. By the time they arrived at the shop, the mask-maker had set out five choices for each of them. A quick scan of their faces for customized padding, and they were ejected onto the street with compliments and a promise that their parcels would arrive at the villa in perfect time for the masquerade.

Their errands summarily completed for the day, Rey found herself twisting her fingers inside her pants pockets almost nervously. They walked the marble-tiled streets, passing beneath well-manicured vines and trees restrained in silver baskets. The scent of flowers wove through the air, along with the carefree threads of chatter and laughter from the nearby cafes.

Her eyes fell on the lush patio of a nearby cafe, and her head turned as the seductive curl of steam from simmering meat seemed to crook a finger at her. A few more steps, and there was a sweet, spiced smell that sent her head swiveling the other direction. Ever the scavenger, she found herself wondering where and what her next meal would be, and whether any of the things snaring her attention now were safe to eat.

As the path curved around the side of the hill, the shops to their left dropped away, revealing a long sprawl of icy green grass that culminated on a bluff overlooking the largest of the canals, and the jumble of sparkling rooftops and spires of Aurelia proper. The whole space was stitched with a patchwork of blankets and lounging people. The occasional droid picked its way toward the people, delivering baskets of steaming food, plush folded furs to ward off the chill breeze.

She stopped to watch, confused. “Why are they eating on the ground?” she asked. It was what she’d always done—what any person poor enough to scavenge for their next bite had done. Even the resistance, just after Crait, had seen everyone crouched anywhere they fit on the Falcon, scarfing rations like beggar children. Most of the people on those blankets were as well-dressed as the people still threading through. “If they can afford those clothes, I assume they can afford to eat at somewhere with tables.”

Ben glanced at her, trying for a moment to decide if she were being serious, or facetious.  Realizing she really didn't understand, he paused, leaning against the walkway railing.  

"It's about an idea of casual luxury."  He said with a shrug.  It's more... private somehow, more intimate than tables and chairs.  It's the kind of thing that families do when they have the time and want to get away."  He hesitated, thoughts of family difficult for them both. 

"I've never quite seen it commercialized though..."  He took her hand and looped her arm through his as he led her towards the archway that seemed to designate the hillside as a discreet venue.  "Shall we, Mrs Tahn?"

Rey grinned. “Maybe I’ll be better at pretending to be a rich person who’s pretending to be poor,” she said, letting herself be pulled closer by the gravity of his large form. His arm felt nice under her hands, fingers just barely brushing the slim patch of skin between his shirt cuff and the edge of his glove. She traced her fingertips along the thick vein that looped around his wrist bone, wishing she could pull off his glove and push up his sleeve, and follow its track. She wanted to walk her fingers down into his palm.

Rey shook herself from the wandering thoughts as they approached the host droid. There was surprise filtering through the bond, and she wasn’t sure if it was at the vague petting, or because some of her desires had leaked through their bond.

Rey certainly wasn't making it easy to hold onto the hurt and anger that Ben still stubbornly wanted to feel.  In only a matter of days things had shifted so completely between them that Ben's footing felt unstable, muddied.  He still burned with slow anger about her relationship with Poe Dameron--both wanted to know more about it and know nothing at all.  He still remembered the feel of her skin and the shattering betrayal of finding her in another's bed.  But he also had felt the intensity of the sadness and confusion and... truth that she had thrown at him after the auction.  He had felt her desperation for him, and in every day since something had been growing that he both craved and could not bring himself to trust.

But he wanted to.  Clinging to old hurts was his default, and he was tired of it. He was tired of being wounded, and--perhaps--ready to start to heal.

And so Rey's absently drifting fingers and the warm curiosity that she forgot to rein in made it very, very hard to be angry any longer.

"Just the two of us."  Ben informed the droid, and they followed it to a thick blanket laid out near the edge of the bluff.  Doubtless there were antigrav sensors ready to trigger if any passing guest walked too close to the edge.

Making sure they were comfortably settled, the droid trundled away to fetch them drinks and a selection of the venue's handcrafted delicacies.

Rey plopped down cross-legged on the blanket and, despite the chill in the air, immediately removed her shoes. RD had done something to her feet that morning—put a slight pinkish varnish on her toenails that she thought looked a little silly. Honestly, people would decorate anything. She wiggled her toes, scrunched her nose at them, and burrowed them into the blanket.

Ben was registering oddly in her senses, intense as usual, but blunted by something she was only beginning to be able to identify as...caution. She looked up at him, extending her hand up to take his and pull him down next to her. “The ground doesn’t bite,” she said. “Well, it does on Jakku, but I doubt it does here.”

Settling down on the blanket beside her, Ben folded his legs under him and looked out over the edge into the Aurelian sky.  Even in the late afternoon, with the sun high and bright, the auroras could still be seen faintly shimmering like thin gossamer against the pale lavender of the clouds.  It should have been easy to relax, to let the stress fade away between them as an almost comfortable silence closed around them.  He could be quiet around Rey, there was no need to waste breath on trivialities.  But a thread of doubt and confusion still wound tightly around his heart and caused him to mistrust his instincts.

The droid returned quickly, setting down two wide-bottomed drinks and an open basket from which a myriad of delicious scents arose.  "Please enjoy this selection of our offerings."  It beeped politely.  "And press the button on the handle of your basket if you require any refills."

As it trundled away, Ben pulled out a few of the small containers and plates, all decorated in a similarly simple style.  Sniffing carefully, he nodded.  "This should all be safe."  He reassured Rey, taking a small sip of the drink.  It was some kind of crystal clear juice, the fruit flavor unfamiliar, but fresh and delicious.

Rey eyed the basket warily, despite the sudden ravenous hunger that gripped her in its claws. The smells were mouthwatering—better, even, than the smells had been at the feast. She waited for Ben to sip his drink, and when no concern radiated off him, she sipped her own. It had an odd, watery sweetness to it, almost like honey and something that sat full and plump on the middle of her tongue.

She watched his hands as he picked through the food, selecting bits to eat, and took only the things that he had already tried. Despite what he’d said about it being safe, she wasn’t ready to take any chances.

Silence settled gently around them, somehow both comfortable and pregnant. There were still discomforts between them, like bits of gravel caught between the gears. Some of it was old, already broken down from the large boulders—Han’s murder, the execution of thousands, the almost insurmountable feat of forgiveness for his myriad sins—but those were being worked through in the background, things that Ben had to forgive and atone for himself before anyone else’s feelings mattered. It was the fresh stones cast into their inner workings that needed hammering at. And Rey had no idea where to start.

Noticing Rey's caution when it came to the food, Ben made sure to try a little bit of everything, just to reassure her.  Biting into one of the small sausages, heat blossomed on his tongue and he coughed, quickly putting it down and reaching for his drink.  "Fuck that's spicy!"  He gasped, not sure what the best way to breathe was to make the fire in his mouth calm down.  He saw Rey make a curious move towards it and reached out to stall her.  "I wouldn't if I were you."  He warned, eyes watering slightly.

“I like spicy things,” she said, quirking an eyebrow at his reddening face. A laugh bubbled out of her as his eyes watered and sweat blossomed on his brow. She handed him a napkin, then a piece of innocuous bread, and picked up the unfinished half of his sausage.

At a sniff, the inside of her nose prickled. Lips curling, she popped the whole thing in her mouth. Juices and spicy oils attacked her tongue, and Rey let out a sigh as prickling fire lit up the inside of her mouth, following down her throat. She rode out the delicious pain, breathing slowly. Sweat bloomed on her skin, bringing with it a fresh blast of chill air. When she opened her stinging eyes again, it was to search for a second sausage.

“That’s amazing,” she said, and bit into a second.

"You're insane."  Ben watched her, fascinated and a little impressed.  He passed her the small container of sausages.  "They're all yours."

As they slowed down with their exploration of the delicacies in their basket, Ben twirled his glass around slowly in his fingers, trying to find the words to ask the questions that had been haunting him.  They were still undefined in his own mind, uncomfortable and vague.  He wasn't sure how to ask something when he didn't even know what answers he wanted.

"Rey..."  He started finally, haltingly.  "What was there-is there- between you and..."  He struggled to even manage the name, feeling the whispering coils of jealous anger in his stomach.  "And... him?"

Rey’s attention was instantly riveted, sausage paused halfway to her lips. She turned the question over in her head, uncertain how much he wanted to know. Uncertain it was something she wanted to say. Would it be better or worse to tell Ben that she loved Poe, but in a completely different way than romantic? Well, maybe not completely different, but different enough. She wasn’t _in_ love with Poe Dameron. And he wasn’t in love with her. But there was love there, different from what she felt for Finn, or Rose. Different from what she’d felt for Leia, or Chewie. Then again, it felt like she loved all her friends differently.

And it wasn’t at all like what she felt for Ben.

She measured her words carefully. “Friendship,” she said. “Comfort, on both sides. I’ve been able to trust him in a way I’ve never done with anyone else, and that will always mean something to me. He’s never betrayed that trust, and I’m not sorry. I’m not sorry to have been with him. But neither of us ever wanted romance. It isn’t that.” She paused for a beat, trying to decode the feelings she was getting off of Ben. “Or were you just asking whether you need to kill him?”

"Ah..."  Ben tried to find tactful words, something that wouldn't betray him.  Tact had never been one of his specialties.  With a sigh, he gave up.  "Yes, that was pretty much what I was asking.  More like if I was allowed to."

Putting down his drink, he stretched his legs out in front of him and leaned back on his elbows.  "To be fair, I've pretty much always wanted to."  He glanced sideways at her, hoping she could read the attempt at humor under the half-truth.

"And now?"  He asked, cautiously.  "I wouldn't share you."  

It was the clearest admission they’d given. The clearest sign that there was something for the two of them to become, something other than just two people trapped in a confusion of feelings and histories.

Rey swallowed, feeling her heart rate pick up and her skin prickle, as if she’d bitten into another sausage. She dug into herself, despite the desire to backpedal from the edge of this precipice before the dive. Ben had stepped over the edge already, and the least she could do was follow him over and find out what was at the bottom.

She closed her eyes, blocking out the distraction of the Aurelian landscape, and Ben’s fingers toying with the edge of the blanket. Was she willing to give up the long, warm nights with Poe? Could the ease of their comfortable relationship, with its real, solid affection and utter lack of expectations continue if separated from the sexual closeness that had taught them more about each other than any conversation?

Yes. She knew it would. Poe had several lovers, and though she had always appreciated his touch, relied on it even, she’d never held the idea that her nights in his bed would continue indefinitely. It had always felt like something that would eventually come to an end. And Poe would love her no less for it. Nor she him.

She remembered the moment she’d decided she loved him unconditionally. One of the first nights they were together, she’d tried to do the thing she knew—from overheard talk and its prevalence in racy holo vids—men wanted. She’d slid low on his body, taken him in her hands, then her mouth. His hands had stayed relaxed, stroking the back of her head as he held his breath, keeping quiet in the shared bunk. It hadn’t taken long for Rey to feel her hands start shaking. Remembering the girls in those vids, the men holding their hair and pushing them up and down like.... things. The way they talked about it like there was no intimacy. The act of it, though there was nothing physically unpleasant about having him in her mouth, had begun to feel degrading within seconds.

She’d tried anyway. Poe was clearly tense with pleasure beneath her, and he’d done the same for her more than once already. It only seemed fair to reciprocate. But her body had given her away. Her hands, trembling, her breath coming sharp and shallow. He’d noticed. Noticed and pulled her back up to him, taken her face in his hands made her promise never to do anything she didn’t want to. Never to let anyone else convince her. He’d wound her up in his arms and promised there were hundreds of other things they could do—things she’d like, that he would like just as much.

She’d decided then that she loved him. But as a person. As her first. As her friend. Not as a permanent lover.

Then there was the question of Ben. She’d wanted him more than she’d ever wanted anything in her life, and to some degree, it was like the drug hadn’t entirely faded when it flushed from her system. Part of Rey still craved the feeling of him against her. Looking at him, hearing him say that he didn’t want to share her with Poe Dameron or anyone else, sent a stroke of desire through her like nothing else.

Poe had always kept a stable of lovers, unable to attach strings to any one. He’d always expected to burn out, to die in a fireball in some dogfight or another and hadn’t wanted to take anyone down in flames with him. That, and he seemed unable to expend the emotional energy.

Rey didn’t want that. She’d been fine with Poe sleeping with other people, but she’d never wanted to do the same.

“I don’t want to be shared,” she said, sneaking her hand toward the cuff of Ben’s sleeve, toying with the button because she was suddenly too afraid to take his hand. Her feelings were too intense—skin contact might well kill her. “But you’re not allowed to kill him.”

The time it took her to respond felt like hours, but when her words and hesitant hands reached him the knot that he had been holding in his chest for weeks suddenly loosened.  A strange tiredness crept through his bones, like he had been engaged in a battle and could finally stop fighting.  He nodded slowly, letting out a breath he hadn't known he was holding.  "Good."  He said quietly, shifting to lace his gloved fingers through hers.  

"And I'll try..." Though he dreaded ever having to meet the man face to face. Tugging softly on her hand, he pulled her closer to him, pulling her down as he stretched out along the soft blanket.  It was comfortable, laying under the Aurelian sky with Rey tucked carefully against his side. 

Part of her felt skittish as his arm hooked around her and tugged her down with him. There were things she could admit, and even more things that she wanted, but she wasn’t certain now was the time to break the final barrier. Parts of her still felt too raw and exposed. But then she was against him, feeling his big warm body against hers, all that power contained inside his shape, and it felt...perfect. It felt right. A long-held tension in her back released, and she found herself going limp with relief against him, tucking her head into the smooth fabric over his chest.

She didn’t even watch the sky, or the sunset. She pressed her face into Ben’s armpit and flung her arm across his waist, counting breaths and heartbeats as their bodies warmed and molded to each other under the brightening auroras. A droid came by, offering them a blanket synthesized to look and feel like a fur pelt. Rey stretched her legs along Ben’s, cocking one knee up over his thigh.

“I remember this from that first night in the sandstorm,” she said, feeling lazy and warm and utterly unwilling to move.

"That's what you remember about the sandstorm?"  Ben asked, amused.  "Mostly I remember sand."  

There was a simple comfort in just being with her, things finally open between them.  He had always expected them to come to this, somewhere in the back of his mind.  It had been so deeply ingrained in him as an inevitability, that the stumbles along their way had always thrown him off, confused him.  Admittedly, his vision of their future together had been darker, but now with the golden lights in the sky growing brighter over their heads he felt more content than he could ever remember feeling.  The driving need for something more--more respect, more attention, more power--was blessedly silent.

For now, this was enough, the healing start they needed.

"Master Tahn!  Mistress Tahn!"  The warbling and cheerful voices cut into his consciousness, and a pang of irritation dimmed his good mood.

Rey tensed, then groaned, pressing her face deeper into Ben’s side, so the seam of his light coat made a hard line across her cheek. “No, no, no,” she groaned. The evening had been off to such a nice start!

The blonde woman from Madam Concierge Ik Ta’s dinner party sidled up, dragging behind her a young human wearing a tight-fitting purple suit and the glowing gemstone adopted by the gender-free in most ports. They were somehow both lanky and floppy, draping themselves in an elegant sprawl along the blond woman’s shoulders.

“Such a pleasure to see the two of you out in society! Did you enjoy your evening, Sana, dear?”

Sitting up slowly and bringing Rey with him, Ben smiled up at them coldly.  He was in no mood for Aurelian politics and condescension.

"We've had a lovely evening."  He said flatly.  "You've had a delightful time talking with us, and you'd like to go home now."

The smile on the blond woman's face widened, and she waved her fingers at Rey with a giggle.  "It's been absolutely delightful talking with you both, but I think we'd like to head home now." Winding her arm around her companion's waist she turned away, heading for the arch that led from the venue with a concerned serving droid trailing after her beeping rapidly about her unpaid bill.

Feeling pleased with himself, Ben dropped a quick kiss into Rey's hair.  "There, much quieter now."

Rey watched, half horrified and half delighted at Ben’s swift use of the Force to drive away their companions. She let out a single disbelieving laugh but, when Ben’s face buried itself in her hair, could only manage a soft, pleased murmur of, “You’re horrible.”

She leaned sideways, tugging the fur around their laps and relaxing into his side, trusting him with her weight. He barely budged, and she found that satisfying. His shoulder pressed into her back, and she still felt his breath fluttering the hair behind her ear. She smiled a bit, tilting her head just slightly, so that warm breath cascaded down across her ear and neck. Her head plunked back against his shoulder, and she sighed, wondering if she was being stupid for exposing her throat to a predator, wondering what she would do if he took the bait.

It was natural to lean into her, to breathe in the scent of her skin.  He teased her with his nose against her ear, not quite kissing her.  He wanted to, but they were still in public, and he was quite certain that once he started he was not going to want to stop.

Things were still delicate between them, something fragile and beautiful was growing and he was afraid to crush it.  It was his tendency to make the wrong decision, to throw caution to the wind and take what he wanted.  He didn't dare to do that now.

The evening air was cooling around them, and Ben felt Rey shiver slightly against his side, even under the lap blanket. 

"We should head back.  He said quietly, regretfully.  "There's much to do before tomorrow."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Headcanon that Rey and Poe both love spicy food and consistently make Finn cry.
> 
> Headcanon that they have a competition to see which one of them drinks water first.
> 
> Headcanon that Poe dared Rey to kiss Finn after eating a particularly hot pepper, and she did, and he was on fire for an hour and retaliated by holding her down and telling Poe to feed her something gross. Poe happily complies and eventually gets ice down the flightsuit for his troubles.
> 
> #rebelantics
> 
> How many of you want to slap this evil blonde woman? I actually feel bad for her companion, who is probably a decent human being in her clutches for the evening.
> 
> Also...we have NUZZLE. CONSENTUAL, SOBER NUZZLE. REPORT TO YOUR BATTLE STATIONS.


	32. Porgs Make New Friends

She’d expected the masquerade to be even more ostentatious than Madam Concierge’s dinner—after all, it had cost so many credits just to secure an invite, she was fairly certain they could have covered the room in a centimeter-thick patina of gold and still had plenty left over for the charitable cause.

Instead, they rode up to a sedate gray building of massive columns, which looked like something made to house important documents of state, not host several hundred people in glittering, masked costume.

After the brief touches they’d shared on that hillside, Rey had almost expected last night to unfold into something that rolled quickly downhill and straight into bed. Part of her had hoped it would, but the rest of her felt too protective of the cautious new trust to make any sudden moves. Like a wild animal, just learning its feeders meant no harm, it felt like the feelings were still too wary to withstand a full physical encounter.

And despite what the hedonistic part of her said, she didn’t think she’d be satisfied with just a chaste kiss. His nose against her ear had made her feel weak, the warmth of his breath puffing wet against her neck had made her skin tighten all over like one of their designer’s strange suits.

But Ben had kept his mouth frustratingly to himself on the speeder ride home, and save for the light tangle of their fingertips, they hadn’t touched. RD’s immediate assault upon entering had broken whatever lingering mood remained. Ben went to make arrangements for transport and, more secretly, their escape route. Rey, on the other hand, had to work with RD to fashion some way to smuggle her blaster in beneath her dress.

Both her and Ben’s lightsabers remained aboard the Falcon—too much a giveaway of their identity, should Aurelia’s ample supply of wandering hands slide somewhere unwelcome. She missed its weight at her side, wishing there were some way she could have disguised it. But her blaster was good enough.

Or it would have been, if there had been an inch of spare fabric to hide it in. In the end, she’d had to strap the thing low on her one concealed calf and hope no one noticed its presence.

Their invitation was thoroughly scanned at the doors, and Ben had the impression that no one who was not vetted several times over was allowed to attend the event.  Thankfully whatever scrutiny they had been subjected to, their carefully crafted identities had held up well and within a few moments they were ushered through the tall double doors.  

The building was clearly an event hall, not a private residence, and the tall banners hung from the ceiling shocked him into immobility.  Once inside, there was no attempt made to mask the purpose of the event, as the draped tapestry was boldly emblazoned with the red and black emblems of the First Order.  He felt Rey stiffen at his side and his fingers tightened over her hand.  Leaning down to her ear he whispered, "Well at least we know we're in the right place..."

The masked guests mingled and talked, voices low in the echoing space.  The sense of entitled revelry that had permeated the dinner at Madam Congierge's estate was missing here, despite the pageantry of masks and costumes which surrounded them.  All faces were concealed, voices muffled through the heavy masks.  Ben's own was simple in design, a simple face plate of fractured mirrors.  The irony was not lost on him, as he was sure the reflection now cast back the First Order decor that surrounded them.

Rey strengthened her hold on Ben’s arm, feeling suddenly on edge. She’d walked into the viper’s nest before, once even with Ben at her side, but it had never been a comfortable thing. None of the people before her were uniformed, and she didn’t think many of them were armed, but those long red banners still sent a chill down her spine.

She peered around, though it was pointless to try spotting anyone in the crowd. She didn’t know anyone’s masks or costumes—even the white and gold of her own mask would have been as unrecognizable as it was heavy. She’d almost forgotten what it looked like before it had arrived that evening, in a silver box tied by charcoal ribbon onto an even larger silver box containing her dress. Shoes had come along with the garments, and of course they were heels. Towering ones made of silk ribbon and gold filigree that felt like they would melt if she splashed them with water. They put her only a few inches lower than Ben—it was a strange and unsteady world, so high up.

They wended their way around the edge of the ballroom, nodding at those who acknowledged them, and Rey tried to skim surface thoughts for anything telling. Beyond a few giddy thoughts anticipating the coming message from their local leader, or a particularly rude assessment of one woman’s fleshy jowels hanging below her mask, there wasn’t much of interest.

“Should we head near the front?” She asked. “If I’m bait, I’ll need a good look at the fish.”

Ben nodded, tense as he scanned the crowd.  It was alien, being anonymous in a place so layered with First Order tokens.  Once he would have been comfortable here, but the conversations would not have been so relaxed, so vapid.  They would have been laced with fear, fear of him.  And he would have thrived on it.

A shiver ran up his spine, the distance that he had traveled since those time yawning at his feet like the vast emptiness of space.  Had it really been less than a year since he had sat in the gun well of the Falcon, mind filled with darkness that threatened to drag him back into ingrained habits?  He had regretted his choices then, a part of him longing for what he had lost.  Now, with Rey at his side, he struggled with the memory.  She had changed everything, she had been right all along.  

As Rey leaned on him for support, Ben navigated them carefully through the crowd towards the podium where the Chamberlain would make his speeches.  Taking up a position near one of the small tables laden with food and drink, Ben cast out his senses, wondering if there were anyone lingering in the crowd who he knew.  Surely the First Order had representatives here, hiding among the socialites.

Rey felt the eyes on her, forced herself to look first with the Force. Her senses brushed against a cool presence, and a mind so well guarded she might have thought him a Jedi had the feel of him been different. This man didn’t feel like a Force user, rather, his mind felt like a book with a very heavy cover. She eased against it, her mental touch light as she slowly slipped fingers into his surface thoughts.

He was dissecting her with his mind, peeling back the layers of her dress, imagining what he could do with a woman like her.

In his mind, she liked it. She liked him. Her husband didn’t do this to her, no. Her husband was watching, his hands displayed flat and trembling on a tabletop. His face would be visible, so that the man could watch every furious twitch of his cheek, every lust-filled gaze at his wife’s flush, dripping sex taking in another man’s hand-

Rey backpedaled furiously, shrinking hard against Ben’s side in shock. “You...said he likes married women?” She said, breathless with revulsion. “I think I found him.”

Feeling the waves of disgust boiling from Rey's mind, Ben looped a protective arm around her and drew her closer, both physically and with the Force between them.  "When we're done with him, he'll regret ever looking at you."  He said softly, deadly promise in his voice.  

A clean-suited man with a dark red mask was taking the small stage, hands lifted with silence.  Ben watched him darkly, feeling through their connection that this was the man who had bothered Rey so much.  He halfway hoped the man wouldn't give them the information they wanted easily, would resist, would give Ben an excuse to take his mind apart piece by piece.  

"Friends!"  Octavius' voice boomed out across the wide space as voices hushed and masked faces turned to look at him.  "I thank you all for attending, it is your presence and your commitment that offers our dear friends hope of regaining their rightful position."  Polite applause followed his words, and he basked in it for a moment before gesturing once again for silence.

"I have a gift for you this evening, a surprise that will shock you all."  He paused for dramatic effect, waiting until curious whispers had begun to build.  "I have glorious news!  Our Supreme Leader, Kylo Ren is alive!"

Rey went completely still. In the space of a second, her mind flew apart in a thousand directions, pursuing a thousand questions and a thousand possibilities and a thousand answers. Had this all been a setup? Was Ben in on it? If not, were they about to be descended upon and revealed?

She dismissed the idea that Ben had been part of it—she’d been too closely connected with him over the past few days. She would have sensed something. The equal wave of shock rippling from his side of the connection was all the confirmation she needed that her instinct on that was right. She planted her feet, prepared to duck for her blaster and spring into action, lightsaber or no lightsaber, death-shoes or no death-shoes.

But no spotlight was swinging down to find them, and the crowd was not sucking back from them like a retreating tide. Hands were lifting to masked mouths, glittering faces turning in ecstatic shock toward a hologram sparkling from the center of a large, gem-studded projector of a chandelier.

A hologram of a familiar dark mask, chased with lines of silver.

Ben stared at his own face, or rather at the mask that he had discarded long before.  Even before he had taken over the title of Supreme Leader.  He was frozen, caught between horror and bursting into laughter at the parody.

"He regrets he cannot be with us this evening!"  The Chamberlain continued as the crowd rippled with quiet conversation.  "He must remain in hiding, protected from the pretenders that call themselves our new Alliance.  But he has recorded this message for you, to lift your spirits!"

The figure in the hologram turned slowly, the dark mask gazing out over the crowd and reminding Ben painfully of the days when Snoke had cast a similar shadow, looming over him with malice and dark attraction.

When the hologram spoke, it almost startled Ben not to hear his own voice, captured somehow to become an impostor's plaything.  But it was definitely the voice of another, of some actor straining to pitch his words below his range.

"Companions of the First Order.  Loyal servants, the might of the First Order will not fall to the insignificant attacks of the weak and repugnant rebel scum that call themselves our rulers! Though we suffered a monumental loss on Karrakesh, we will rise again, indomitable, victorious!  The obstreperous remnants of filth in our galaxy will be cleansed, and though I cannot share with you the salubrious air of beautiful Aurelia, I thank you all for your glorious contribution to our resurrection!"

Ben could barely follow the words, his initial shock fading into a mix of amusement and anger.  The voice was unfamiliar, but the words.... the words could only belong to one man.

"That pretentious, arrogant, slimy little shit."  He growled under his breath. 

What had begun with something like fascinating horror quickly dissolved into a thin, unrestrained wheeze of a laugh. Rey turned, burying her mask in Ben’s shoulder as the false voice continued on in the most un-Ben-like (and un-Ren-like) language she could possibly have imagined. Ben’s growl of utter offended frustration only made it worse. She caught only a few more words, like “bellicose” and “egregious” and “moribund” before she dissolved into helpless sobs of laughter.

Hux. It had to be. No one else sounded quite so smarmy. Finn’s impression of the man had included enough of what Poe called “thousand-credit adjectives” to make her almost certain the speech could have been written by no one else. And if that was true, there was absolutely no way Ben was going to let it go.

Beside them, a man passed Ben a black handkerchief for his clearly “overcome” wife.

Taking the handkerchief with false gratitude, Ben patted Rey's shaking shoulders in mock comfort.  "I thought he'd died at Karrakesh."  He hissed softly to Rey, hand fisting around the small dark cloth.  "I left him badly wounded before the assault, I assumed your people had finished the job."  

The speech was coming to a close, and as the hologram faded, the crowd burst into thunderous applause.

"Now please, dance, enjoy the evening!"  Chamberlain Octavius' voice echoed over the noise, and music began to drift through the room.

Sweeping a drink off the table next to them, Ben tilted his mask up enough to toss it back, feeling the slow burn of strong alcohol.  "At least I can kill him again."

“Sure, if he’s here,” she said, coughing out a final laugh. “I won’t even stop you.”

Rey dabbed at her streaming eyes below the mask, feeling much better about the evening already. The grumpier Ben got, the funnier the memory of the speech became. She snagged a drink as well, though something of a lighter, bubblier order than what Ben had selected. The speech had, indeed, buoyed her confidence. Just not in the way Chamberlain Octavius and General Hux had likely intended. Sipping her drink, she scanned the room for that dark red mask, and found the Chamberlain standing with another man whose bearing screamed “military”.

She slid in close to Ben, running a hand up his arm to get his attention. With a tug of his hand, she pulled his arm around her, glad when he obediently—or was it possessively—pulled her in against him. This close, it should have been easy to lean in and whisper, but the damn folded fan at the edge of her mask clacked against his mirrored face.

“I’m going scavenging,” she said. “Have fun hunting, but don’t leave me alone in a room with that man for long. I will probably end up breaking enough teeth that he’ll have to drink his meals through a straw.”

"Please do."  Ben replied darkly.  

It was hard to let her go, knowing what she was walking into.  Fierce protectiveness made him want to walk with her every step, to guard her from the predators of this ridiculous world.  But if there was one thing he had learned about Rey, it was how capable she was of protecting herself.

Ben drifted slowly towards the edges of the crowd, observing but not engaging as several couples began to move out onto the dance floor.  He found an alcove near one frosted window and folded himself down onto the window seat, a new drink in hand.  Letting his senses wonder, he brushed against Rey's mind, feeling her determination.  

 _I'm with you_. He reminded her gently.

Rey took the words like an offered hand, holding him in her head like a talisman against everything that could go wrong. She was getting better at walking in the stupid shoes, though a bit of Force-assisted balance was there to help her navigate the slick dance floor. She wound her way past people in glittering shades of red and blue and copper. No one seemed to be wearing green or other earthier tones. It was all jewel and precious metal. Rey certainly wasn’t the only one in gold.

She stretched out her feelings, finding the edge of that cool mind, and made her way toward it until—there. His back was to her, and he seemed to be speaking with a couple in all black. Rey braced herself. She’d tossed herself into the jaws of the rancor before. And this one didn’t even have the Force.

Swiping two drinks from a passing attendant, she made her way to the edge of his vision and waited, pretending politeness and shyness she didn’t feel, for him to acknowledge her.

Ben let his senses hover near her watchfully, only paying enough attention to his own surroundings to make the requisite nods and passing greetings as other guests wondered by.

Chamberlain Octavius let Rey wait for a moment, before turning slowly to face her.  He was a rather tall man, only a few inches shorter than Ben.  Broad shouldered and fit, he was still developing the slight paunch of an older man.  "Good evening, Mistress."  He said smoothly, the eyes behind his dark mask raking down her body and finally settling a bit south of her face.  "Please tell me a lovely woman such as yourself is not attending the party alone?"

Rey extended the drink to him, making the slight bobbing curtsey-thing she’d seen the other women do. “No, I’m here with my husband,” she said. Then, on a spark of inspiration, “He’s somewhere, talking with people more important than I am. I thought I should try the same thing.”

He laughed genially, taking the drink from her and letting his fingers rest a little too long over her own.  "And how are you enjoying the evening so far, Mistress....?"

“Tahn,” she supplied. Dropping her gaze, she scanned for weapons on him, hoping the gesture looked demure. He seemed to be carrying a blaster, but there was something weighing down his sleeve. A vibroblade? A wrist-blaster? No, that seemed too dainty a weapon for this man. Why was the Dark Side so blasted tall?

“I enjoyed the Supreme Leader’s speech very much. I’m afraid I was overcome.” Well, it wasn’t a lie.

"It is comforting to know he has not abandoned us."

You’re right, Rey thought. He’s here with you now. Just not in the way you think. He’ll never abandon you. Not until every trace of you is gone.

“It is indeed,” she said.

Octavius nodded, eyes wandering shamelessly. "Tell me, Mistress Tahn, does your husband often desert you like this?  Surely you would feel more comfortable accompanied, especially as you are so new to our world."

Rey tensed, shooting her gaze back up to him in surprise.

He winked at her.  "I recognize your name, of course.  You have been quite the talk of the town, a lovely flower still coming to bloom."  Pretentious charm oozed through his words.

She let the uncomfortable laugh trickle out. “He is usually more attentive,” she said. “I believe the prospect of the evening’s proceedings has excited him. He seems to think there may even be First Order officers in attendance and is absolutely beside himself with the desire to thank them for their serv-“ she covered the mouth piece of her mask, feigning a blush. “Am I speaking to an officer now?”

"Oh goodness no!"  Octavius laughed, setting his drink aside and moving closer to her to speak more intimately. Rey set her drink aside as well, feigning utter interest. "I am nothing but a friend of the Order, doing my best to aid them in their recovery."

He slid a hand slowly down her forearm to her wrist, taking her hand in his and kissing the back of it softly.  "Would you like to dance, Ms. Tahn?  Has he even taken the time to teach you the moves?"

She shuddered at the touch, and the slight contact with her mind told her he wouldn’t have cared if it was a happy shiver or not. She glanced sideways. Sana was used to looking to her husband for cues. This would confuse her. “I... wasn’t going to dance,” she said. “We’ve been...otherwise diverted. I don’t know the steps very well.”

As she said it, she leaned forward a bit, as if grateful for the contact of a man to show her what to do. How to behave. Someone to protect her in her husband’s absence. Sana was that sort of creature, determinedly small, seeking the validation of inspiring protectiveness. She would like big men, and powerful ones. She would be attracted to anyone big enough to bully people away from her. She wouldn’t have enough guile to enjoy pitting men’s affections against each other—no. She just wanted to be coddled and petted and protected at all times.

Rey wobbled a bit on her heels and set her free hand on the Chamberlain’s arm. “I’m not sure my husband would approve. Is it done? Dancing with someone who you aren’t married to?”

"Dancing can be enjoyed by all."  He assured her, patting her hand and covering it with his own as he led her out onto the floor.  "Surely he won't mind if you learn a few things in his absence.  You can surprise him with it later."

Not all certain he was comfortable leaving Rey alone with the man, no matter how well she was handling it, Ben retreated deeper into the alcove he had settled into and let himself fully Visit, falling into step behind Rey as the man turned her to face him and rested his hands on her hips.  His view of the ballroom around her faded into the familiar emptiness that always surrounded them when they Visited, and Ben moved up behind her and leaned down to speak into her ear. 

"No matter what his opinion of you, we can't exactly have you stabbing him with those shoes, can we."  He slid his hands down her arms and over her hands, pressing against her back as he carefully guided her through the first few steps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think evil!Ben is starting to catch onto this flirting thing!
> 
> Also, Hux-speak is like a beautiful language all its own. 
> 
> So what kind of one-shot side stories would you guys like to see most? #porgtales? #rebelantics?


	33. A Porg in a Purse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: non-consentual groping

Rey’s posture went ramrod straight as Ben slid in behind her, his arms bracketing hers. Her heels put her slightly more in line with him, so the dense muscle of his chest pressed in against her shoulder blades, and when he wound an arm around her waist to pull her backwards into step, she felt his belt catch at the low back of her dress. Suddenly, she didn’t care about the red-masked face ahead of her. The man was saying things, telling her to step backward.

She tried to retain her focus on Octavius, who was smiling at her indulgently. “You’re doing fine, but...Perhaps you need a firmer hand,” the man crooned. He drew her in, sliding his hand around her waist, scooping her in against him. Her heels put him bust barely below his height. He was a scant few centimeters taller than her now, more the height of Finn or Poe. But unlike her boys, this man’s grip was demanding, and he pressed her into the stiff fabric of his suit. He slid his hand down to her exposed thigh. “Step back with this leg, my dear. Aurelian dances start on the opposite side.”

Ben was breathing in her ear, sending little skitters of sensation down her neck. Irresistible. His body was warm and firm behind her, and she could feel how irresistible he found her every time he brought himself against her to move her forward. It was impossible to ignore the increasing pressure and expanding shape of him pressing into her backside. It made her spine want to liquify.

The salt and pepper stubble around the edges of Octavius’s mask moved, suggesting a smile. His hand flattened on her back, the tips of his fingers skirting the edge of her dress. His thumb caressed her back.

Trapped between them, Rey wasn’t sure how to react. She wanted to tell Ben that he wasn’t helping, that he was confusing the situation, but... She felt his arm like a barrier between herself and Octavius.

Ben wanted to push away the man's reaching hands, pull Rey away and replace them with his own.  He bent slightly to press his nose behind her ear, breathing in her skin.  If nothing else, at least he could provide a welcome distraction from the ordeal, and steal the dance he wished to have.  It was an interesting thought, to take her away somewhere and spend the night dancing just for them, not for any mission or motive.  In his mind dancing became something more, and he flattened one hand over Rey's belly, feeling her breath catch as he carefully guided her through the steps.

"You're doing well."  He encouraged her, lips brushing the back of her neck.  "He wants you."  Ben wasn't entirely sure if he was referring to the Chamberlain or to himself.  Most likely both.

Rey was too warm, half with irritation, half with blossoming desire as her body was torn between the disconcerting touches of the Chamberlain’s thumb caressing her back, and the hot drag of Ben’s mouth down her neck. She wanted to focus on the big hand on her belly, the strong body closing around her from behind, sending little electric jolts up through her.

But Chamberlain Octavius redirected his leading hand, tucking her unresisting fingers onto his shoulder. The trickle of his fingers down her arm sent a confused shiver through her, his knuckles caressing the underside of her arm, down her rib cage, back up to the place just beneath the swoop of gold fabric that ducked beneath her breast.

Ben had been holding that leading hand as well, and now... now it was moving too, and Rey could hardly breathe.

The Chamberlain curved his hand around her ribs, his thumb a mere centimeter from being inappropriate, his opposite hand sliding further around the back of her dress, stroking her ribs.

“You’re terrible,” she breathed, speaking to both men.

"I'm not exactly known for being good."  Ben agreed, moving in time with Rey's as she was guided across the dance floor.  The press of her curves against his hips made his heart beat faster, and the thrill of the hunt sent sparks down his nerves.  Hunting together, trapping their prey... hunting alone and feeling her tremble in his arms.

"Is that a compliment, my dear?"  Octavius smile, taking the flush on her pale skin and the tremble of her hands as flattery.

Nuzzling into the soft hair at the back of Rey's neck, Ben hesitated a breath away from kissing her pale skin when a familiar presence spiked through his awareness, dragging him back to the alcove where he sat, drink in hand.  He was suddenly cold, Rey's warmth fading to be slowly replaced with icy hatred. 

Sliding from his seat he scanned the crowd, reaching out with the Force until he found his target.  There...  a guest in simple black, back to Ben as he strolled along the wall.  The rigid set of his shoulders, hands clasped smartly behind his back.  Ben would have known that swagger anywhere.  Hux.

Setting his drink aside Ben stalked him, fingers curling into a fist as he lashed his anger down and turned it to purpose.  One way or another, he would finally kill the man tonight.

The instant Ben’s presence vanished from Rey’s back, she staggered. Suddenly, Octavius’s smirking mouth was closer to hers. She heard him, but barely. A roar of frustration was passing through her mind. She sensed the sudden, distracting purpose of Ben’s anger, and knew he’d scented Hux in the crowd, but most of her didn’t care. There was an ache inside her that was feeling cheated, a sense of fullness between her legs that made her furious at the sudden absence of Ben’s strong hands. She was going to kill him. And then she was going to tease the hell out of him, preferably while he was cuffed to a chair.

Of course, this might be his version of revenge for the other night, when the liquer had left her wantonly squirming in his lap. Still. That hadn’t been on purpose. She got the sense that he’d known exactly what he was doing, and the fact that he could be distracted from _her_  by  _Hux_ was infuriating.

 _I will not lose to that pasty bastard_ , she thought.

“I happen to like terrible men,” she said to Octavious, whose hands had grown almost painfully firm on her back. “Terrible men are effective protectors. Of the galaxy and otherwise.” Her tongue felt slimy just saying it.

Ben stalked him, deadly determination coiling in the pit of his stomach.  They had danced around each other for too long, attempting to undermine and sabotage.  When Hux had finally turned on him at Karrakesh, Ben had left him screaming on the war room floor, bleeding out and begging like the simpering fool he was.  It had to end.  

Drawing the Force around him, Ben almost regretted not bringing a weapon with him to the Gala.  It would have been satisfying to come up behind him, to feel the parting of flesh and spine under the blade of a vibroknife, blood spilling hot over his fingers.  As it was he would make do with crushing the life from him, watching his eyes widen in horror as he realized that Ben was alive, and that he would not be.

Hux was mingling with the crowd, exchanging condescending pleasantries with guests as he made the rounds.  Slipping closer, Ben brushed up beside him, leaning in before Hux could register him and whispering softly in his ear.  "There are too many people here... someone may recognize you and call the Alliance authorities.  You really should find a quiet room to hide."

Hux froze, body tensing as he cast anxious glances around the room from behind the plain silver mask he wore.  With a soft curse, he excused himself from his current conversation and began to carefully make his way to the edge or the room.

Between the combined attentions of the Chamberlain and her frustrating dark Jedi, Rey realized she’d lost track of her surroundings. Luckily, Ben’s information on the man had been good, and Octavius seemed to be steering their dance toward the side of the chamber and the closed doors of after hours exhibit rooms. Rey reached out her senses, feeling the wide columns supporting the tall roof, the fluttering pleasures and anxieties of the attendees, and the open spaces of the smaller rooms beyond.

The dance was a give and take, a step back and sway, a step forward and turn. But Octavius seemed to be changing the steps, crowding her backward with each step. Rey’s senses anticipated his movements, and suddenly, her gait was smoother. Without Ben distracting her, she could focus on the Force, on the dance.

“Good, you’re learning,” Octavius said. “I like a quick mind.” His arm seemed for a moment to loosen, but only so he could lower his grip from her waist to her hips. His hand strayed beneath the dress, straight down the back of it. Rey sucked in a breath as he moved her behind a wide column.

He tightened his hands and pulled her hard against him, leaning his body in to pin her back against the column.

Rey imagined six different ways to free herself. Fury flushed hot up her chest, and her fist clenched in the back of his suit jacket, prepared to drag him back, then break his stupid mask over her knee.

But there were people around. This wasn’t supposed to happen until he got her alone! What sort of madman would try to steal another man’s wife in public?

The kind that had fantasies like the one she’d watched. Rey clenched her teeth. There was a mission to accomplish. She could stand a little groping. She gritted her teeth, feeling sick with revulsion as Chamberlain Octavious dug his free hand up the slit in her dress, drawing her thigh up to his hip, just below the holster of his blaster.

“Your husband doesn’t do this to you,” he whispered, his hand down the back of her dress moving to grab at her ass. “I can make you feel things he never could.”

Something in her brain snapped.

She hated this. She hated him, and this dress, and these shoes, and the mask, and the falseness and cruelty of everything on this whole damn planet. She knew who she was, but ever since she’d stepped onto this planet, she’d been questioning herself.

The glitz of it all seemed to have tainted everything. Even things that were supposed to be fun. Sex, as she had learned it from Poe, was supposed to be fun. It didn’t matter with who, or how many, or in what way it was done. Even the insane party at Madam Concierge’s would have been fine to people who knew what it was and had agreed to be there. But they hadn’t. At least Rey hadn’t, and she didn’t think Ben would have taken her there if he’d realized what it would be like. And there had been predators in that room who’d been delighted by her shock, who’d wanted to take advantage of her with chemicals and force.

Predators like Chamberlain Octavius.

Rey darted her hand forward, preternaturally fast, and snagged his blaster from its sheath, jamming it up under his arm on direct line with his heart. “And I can make you feel dead,” she said.

Ben was close, a breath away from pushing open the door between him and ending years of the rivalry that had only ever had one logical end.

Rey's fury and humiliation crashed over him like a tidal wave, and with it awareness of another man's hands, rough and intrusive.  Rage blossomed in Ben's chest, all thoughts of Hux vanishing in the need to find the man to whom those hands belonged and destroy him.  He spun away from the door, reaching out with the Force to find her.  There, across the room.  She was hidden from his view as he hurried along the edge of the room towards her.  A whisper of caution tried to calm him, but Ben's anger burned it away as he approached, hands fisting at his sides.  Rey's revulsion sickened him, and as they came into sight Ben growled with fury.

She was crushed between the Chamberlain and a tall column, the man's body pressed against her, hands wondering.  Ben struggled to contain the need to tear him off of her with the Force, to watch him bleed, but as he swept up behind the man he caught Rey's eyes and came to a halt.  Despite the horror in her face she had a determined and angry set to her lips, and as Ben watched the Chamberlain's hands fell away, moving into a defensive position. Rey was stepping forward, slowly pushing the man back and Ben could see the hidden sillouette of a blaster held under the man's jacket.  A flutter of pride helped to slightly mollify Ben's rage, pride in the beautiful woman who was perfectly capable of saving herself.

"Sana!"  He called out loudly, voice rough with the effort of keeping his emotion from betraying itself.  "There you are!"

In Ben’s mask, Rey saw herself, shattered across a hundred different pieces of glass. Here a flushed collarbone. There a scrap of filmy gown. But mostly, eyes filled with murderous fury. There was a doorway a few feet away, and she wanted nothing more than to get them away from the eyes of anyone who might miss the Chamberlain. She looked at Ben and jerked her head toward it.

“Let’s talk in private,” she said.

The Chamberlain froze, tension rolling off of him as he turned his masked face towards her.  "Who the fuck do you think you are!"  He hissed, though he moved towards the door as she pressed him.

Ben followed, still struggling with every instinct to kill the man.  Closing the door quietly behind them, he came to stand at Rey's shoulder and planted a hand in Octavious' back, sending him stumbling forward.  

Catching himself on the edge of a small sculpture's pedestal, the Chamberlain spun to face them, drawing himself up to his full height and squaring his shoulders bravely.  "I don't know who the hell you think you are, but you won't get away with this!  I have connections you can't even begin to fathom!  The Supreme Leader himself will be--"

"Very displeased."  Ben growled, pulling off his mask and disengaging the hologram that he had used to hide his scar during their time on Aurelia.  He stalked forward as the eyes behind the Chamberlain's mask widened in shock, his grip on the marble edge going white-knuckled as he wobbled.

"S-s-supreme leader!  I didn't mean any-"

With a roar, Ben threw out a hand, Force lifting the man into the air and throwing him against a wall where he hung, heels kicking the marble as his hands scrabbled at his throat and he gasped for air.  "You should have kept your hands to your _fucking self_!"  Ben hissed, furious.

“Ben,” Rey said, grabbing his arm, though she had to admit it felt absurdly good to watch the man struggle. Her mind prickled with the rage rolling off of Ben, and though she felt some small part of her satisfied by the darkness, she felt it drawing at Ben’s mind, luring him deeper into something close to a full dark relapse. She forced his arm down, satisfied when Octavius crumpled on the marble floor. “We can’t question a dead man, and neither can the Alliance.”

She changed the Chamberlain’s blaster setting to stun and shoved it into Ben’s hand, then freed her own from the holster on her calf. As Octavius stood, his mask slipping from his face, she aimed at his head.

“Stay,” she growled.

Feeling slightly better, Ben aimed the blaster Rey had given him at the sniveling man and fired, the whining abruptly going silent as the man crumpled.  Glancing around the exhibit room they had entered, Ben's eyes found a small service door along the back wall.  "We can stash him in one of the Betrayal's cargo hatches, question him there."  

He couldn't resist a last vengeful kick to the unconscious man's side as he moved to pick him up, shouldering his weight carefully.  "And once we're done with him, you can call in your Alliance to arrest him.  Or we can throw him out an airlock."  He shrugged.  "I'm fine either way.

Rey pressed her lips, glaring at the man. She could still feel his fingers creeping over her skin, the worst kind of personal violation—throwing him out an airlock seemed like a viable option, considering how many women he’d likely treated exactly this way and worse. Then again, it might be fun to turn him over to the Alliance. Tell Finn or Rose or Poe or, hell, Chewie what he’d done and let them come up with some lingering official punishment in addition to whatever he’d serve as a major fundraiser for the First Order.

Chewie would probably rip his arms off. Now that might be a fitting punishment for someone who forced his hands on unwilling women.

“I’ll just tell Chewie what happened,” she said. “Airlock is too quick.”

She finessed the electric lock, leaving the art of dragging the unconscious Chamberlain through the museum’s service channels to Ben. The occasional heavy THUNK called up a satisfying image of the man’s head encountering every solid object they passed.

At the back entrance, she reached into Ben’s sleeve and pressed the call button on his comm link. She’d programmed their vehicle to circle the area in a random pattern, and it found the nearest street to their position and sent back a confirming beep. Meanwhile, she disabled the alarm system on their exit door.

Rey held up a hand, stretching out her senses to find any sense of life in the Force. Several security guards patrolled the area, and she planted the sense of a disturbance on the other side of the building. In a matter of moments, they were walking away.

She slipped through the door, glanced around, and motioned Ben to follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AT LAST, REY GETS TO KICK ASS AGAIN.
> 
> She is so done.
> 
> Soon we will make with the return of the porgs! Any last theories on our new porgish overlord?


	34. A Plethora of Porgish Pets

With the unconcious Chamberlain stowed safely in one of Betrayal's small cargo pods, Ben finally allowed some of the tension to drain from his back and shoulders. The pods were not in any way intended for human transport, and he relished the thought of the large man waking up in the small space and howling for his freedom. Walls insulated for the cold pressure of space would trap any sound he made, avoiding attention.

Walking up the ramp into the ship's cozy interior, he looked around for the first time at the repairs that Rey had managed to make in such a short time. There were still scars across the walls and the metal of the consoles, but exposed wires were neatly tucked back into place and the reassuring glow of her instrument panels had come back to life.  

Rey herself was tucked into the pilot's seat, dangerous shoes tossed into a corner and her knees drawn up to her chest. The golden gown was wrinkled and out of place, and as her fingers toyed absently with one of the console's switches she looked distantly out the windows into the spaceport. She seemed small, and lonely.

Though she hid it well, he hated the effect the night had had on her, the position that he had put her in. It had all seemed so theoretical, planning their mission, using their target's cravings against him. Theoretical until it had hurt her, filled her mind with memories of reaching hands that he wasn't sure she could forget easily.  

Approaching quietly, Ben crouched on the floor of the ship beside her seat, turning the chair to face him and pulling her hands into his.  

"I'm sorry, Rey."  He said softly, wishing he could take the memories for her.  "I never meant..."

“I know you didn’t,” she said, fighting not to pull her hands away. “I don’t blame you. I blame him.” She clenched her jaw. “Alright, I sort of blame you, but only for bringing me here. I saw into his mind, and I knew what he wanted. I didn’t think he’d try it until we were somewhere private, where I could break his hand.” The words came out acid through her teeth, and she twisted her fingers into Ben’s, clenching his hands until it hurt.

“It wasn’t that bad,” she said. “It wasn’t anything more than the Irving Boys tried on Jakku, but then I could fight back without giving anything away. I don’t like subterfuge. I’m not good at it.” Absurdly, she sort of wanted RD, with its mechanical scrubbing and programmed personality full of pure, robotic intentions. “And I want to punch him a few more times.”

Rey's hands were trembling slightly in his own, and the slow ebb of anger in Ben's stomach was turning to pain for her.  He pulled her hands towards him, kissing the backs of them without thinking.

He let her go and stood, moving towards the small cubby behind the pilot's chair and digging through the old things he had stashed there.  Pieces of his old life.  Finding what he was looking for he silently handed her one of his old shirts, the soft black fabric wrinkled, but clean.  The magic of the beautiful dress was gone.

"We can't go back to the villa now."  He said quietly.  "Too much risk."  Turning away, he walked back down the ramp of the ship and let it close with a soft swish behind him, giving her a moment alone.

Rey felt absurdly relieved that Ben hadn’t tried to hug her. She twisted her fingers in the black fabric, recognizing the feel of it, the grooves worn into it from the cross-straps of the ribbed gauntlets that had once covered Kylo Ren from shoulder to wrist. She pressed it to her face, almost surprised that it smelled like Ben. In her mind, they were separate men. They should have separate scents. But they didn’t.

Slowly, she pulled she shirt from her face and stripped out of the dress, dragging the shirt over her head. It fell to mid-thigh. That was long enough for her. She kicked the gilded fabric into the corner with her shoes and stood, flicking a few switches to get The Betrayal started up.

Hearing the slow whir of the engines starting up, Ben re-entered the ship and moved to stand behind Rey at the console.  Her shoulders were still tense, and he wanted to reach out and comfort her, but refrained.  For the moment at least, she needed her distance.  

"Wait a few minutes before we take off."  He said quietly, regretting the Betrayal's lack of secondary seating.  It was going to be a rough ride up to the moon where they had left the Falcon.

"RD is on her way with a few things from the villa."

Rey nodded, running her fingers over the controls and preparing for launch. She couldn’t help running her mind over everything that happened, trying to disentangle the disgust and violation from the excuses floating in her head. That was not the kind of thing she should have had to do, but if it took out the First Order’s main source of funding...was it worth it? Yes. She knew that. It was something that she would have given her life for. It still didn’t make it right, or easy.

She glared through the transparisteel hull, sickened by the golden veils in that midnight amethyst sky. She hated everything on this planet—the glitzy clothing, the ridiculous food, the even more ridiculous parties, and the maneuvering aristocracy with their casual cruelty. It was so far from everything she’d ever known, and everything she’d ever wanted to know. It was the opposite of the grease and gears and deep convictions of the resistance. She’d rather go back to Jakku than spend another minute on this vile canker of a planet.

Maybe some people could handle this. Maybe Ben could slide into the workings of this society and back out again without trouble, but Rey couldn’t. And she didn’t want to.

“I’m never doing this again,” she said into the tense silence. “I’ll go into battle with you. I’ll root out First Order settlements. But this—“ she kicked at the dress and shoes, hating the flash of pink varnish on her toes. “This is the farthest thing from what I want to be that I can think of. If you want to do something like this again, you go on your own.”

Ben nodded, hearing the droid trundle up the ramp into one of the cargo storages under the ship and close the door.  He had no words to offer her, no comfort he could give.  He bundled her pain into his own and held onto it, fragments of beautiful moments they had managed to share under Aurelia's skies seeming distant and broken.

"Let's go home."  He said quietly, wondering when he had allowed the Falcon to become so again.

****  
A few hours after launch, Rey made contact with Finn first, and decided to let him take care of the details of their “info drop”. She let Ben take over the helm and pulled down the small bunk at the back of the ship, then powered down RD and worked on editing her programming.

No more mascara. No more scrubs and baths. Not for Rey. If it wanted to make itself useful, it could clean up after the Porgs that were undoubtedly turning the Falcon into a living den of downy, squawking misery. By the time they made it back to Aurelia’s moon, she had worked out a good deal of her frustration.

Now, she just felt tired. Tired and empty, and in need of a shower. Part of her wanted a hug, too, but the larger part of her wanted more time to disassociate the feeling of unwanted hands from the confusion of Ben pressing up against her back. She refused to conflate the two, or let the boiling feelings destroy the good things they’d managed to build.

They’d talked. She and Ben had established a few truths. Now was not the time to hurl herself into it and pretend the feelings of violation and disgust could be erased by the touch of a different man’s hands. Now was the time to reestablish who and what she was, and rely on him as a friend first. Everything else they were, or could be, would have to wait until she felt more like herself.

She got up, snagged one of the golden shoes, and went to work unbending the delicate wires. At Ben’s glance, she said, “Gold is good conductive material.”

Ben shrugged, admiring the practicality of her actions.  He had enjoyed having her closer to his height--it had been a pleasant change-- but down to earth, stable Rey felt more real.  He had missed this Rey, the practical and determined girl who never gave up on anything.

It was impossible to ignore the impact she was having on him, the over-sized black shirt he had given her draping over her long limbs and falling nearly to her knees.  Somehow the dark and shapeless fabric gave off a feeling of deeper intimacy than the barely present gowns had, and it was the closest he could come at the moment to wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close to give her comfort.  Not wanting his thoughts to tease at open wounds that her time on Aurelia had left her with, Ben locked them tight behind his walls, holding them close.

He distracted himself with the minutiae of piloting the ship, and darker thoughts involving his missed chance to confront Hux.  He took some meagre satisfaction from imagining Hux, dazed and confused, staring around an empty room like an idiot and wondering how he had gotten there.

As the Betrayal slowly slid into dock near the Falcon, the familiar lines of the other ship caused more relief than aversion, something that Ben avoided examining for the moment.  He wasn't ready yet to face the older memories the ship bore in it's scarred body, but the newer ones were becoming precious to him.  Standing, he held out a hand to help Rey to her feet in the confined space, and waited.

Rey looked up at Ben, examined the frank misery on his face, and sighed, some of her anger relenting. He’d never meant for her to be hurt, and the last thing she needed right now was him descending into some pit of guilt that would only fuel the darkness inside of him. And right now, that hand didn’t seem to be asking her for anything she didn’t want to give. She reached out first with the Force, brushing against his consciousness, showing her need for that hand to mean friendship, and support.

It stayed extended. She took it.

Strong, warm fingers closed around her hand and she pulled herself up. Ben had stripped off the long velvet coat, the neck cloth, and thick belt of his fancy suit, leaving behind the simpler cut of the black shirt. Something more Ben Solo, and less Leyto Tahn. With a sigh, she leaned her forehead into his chest.

“I’m fine,” she said, and squeezed his hand. “I’ll be better once we’re back on the Falcon.”

"If there's anything left of the Falcon."  Ben said quietly, one hand coming up automatically to rest on the back of her head and pet her hair comfortingly.  He caught himself as his fingers touched her hair, falling away as he questioned himself.  So many things on Aurelia had spiraled out of control, and too much of it was his fault.  "I'm afraid of what the porgs have been up to in our absence."

A faint banging from under the ship helped to distract him, and he scowled.  "Talk to the portmaster, make sure he doesn't remember anything he sees.  I'll get this trash moved into the Falcon's hold and secured.  We can stay at port long enough to question him and for your Alliance team to arrive."

Moving away from Rey with difficulty, Ben strode down the ramp of the Betrayal and stopped, staring.  Across the bay a mechanic was working on a small shuttle, a porg perched merrily on his shoulder as he worked.  Through the bay doors,  Ben saw a small huddle of the feathery creatures trundling along behind a transport hover heading out of the station and into the main city, and no one seemed to pay them any mind.  What the hell was going on?

At Ben’s ripple of confusion, Rey swiveled around in the pilot’s seat and levered herself up. “What?”

Approaching in the doorway, she saw what. Everywhere she looked, there were signs of Porgish domestication, from the nest box built halfway up one wall, to the pair of women walking along an upper mezzanine, fluffy porgs peeking out of their handbags.

“Seriously?” she said. Reaching over to RD, she flicked the droid’s switch on. “RD, go with Ben to the Falcon and...clean up.” Turning to Ben, she said, “I reprogrammed her to clean up after the porgs. It probably smells terrible. We never did figure out where they were putting the excrement.”

Nodding helplessly, Ben followed orders and as the Falcon's ramp lowered with a hiss, a small contingent of panicked porgs flooded out around his ankles.  The tiny porg chasing them skidded to a stop at the top of the ramp, staring at Ben as he stared back.  The fluffy creature was half the size of the others, and in its tiny mouth it clutched a single spoon.  

"I don't even want to know..."  Ben groaned, heading up the ramp.  As he passed, the tiny porg attacked his ankles with it's improvised weapon, lashing out violently.  

The interior of the ship was a mess, and RD began beeping woefully as she scurried around, tidying and sweeping feathers out of vents.  The angry, spoon-wielding porg following in his wake, Ben headed for the cockpit to check on the falcon's systems.

With protest, the old ship slowly woke, and one by one the lights flickered on.  If nothing else, the porgs didn't seem to have done much damage to her internal systems.  Leaving the ship booting up, Ben paused in the lounge room, looking around.  The last time he had been here he had been so angry...  angry at Rey for leaving, angry at himself for not saying the things he wanted to say.

He sighed, scrubbing a hand through his hair.  They had come so far on Aurelia, and now with the planet behind them it seemed almost like a dream.  Rey was distant again, her equilibrium thrown off balance by the things she had endured, and Ben wasn't sure where that left them.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some answers at last!
> 
> Sathya and I are working on some fun #rebelantics side stories. We’ll let you know when we post them!
> 
> Here’s a question for you: If you had a domesticated porg, how would you dress it and what would you name it?


	35. 22 Porgs

Rey tried to keep her focus on the Portmaster, not the porg lounging in the crook of the man’s arm, as she brought their account current and informed him both the Betrayal and the Mynok (as they were calling the Falcon) would be staying an extra day or so. The Portmaster was smartly-dressed and stately, with white hair and dark eyebrows that almost matched the porg tucked in his arm. He seemed studiously unconcerned at Rey’s lack of footwear.

“Why does everyone seem to have adopted one of those things,” she gestured at the porg.

“Oh, they’re everywhere,” the man said. “Came in on one ship or another and just started imprinting on the locals, following us around. Lucky they’re cute, and they actually appear to eat carbon buildup and calcium deposits, so I don’t mind them around. This little fellow has been cleaning my pre-Clone Wars era pod-racer.”

Eyebrows lifting, Rey stared at the little Porg, who stared back, its black eyes unfathomable. It could have the wisdom of ages from Ach To stuck behind those eyes. Or it could be dumb as a brick. She thanked the Portmaster and headed back toward the Falcon.

Just seeing the ship made her feel steadier. The concerned trills of porgs and echoing strings of droidish beeping trickled down the hatch, and Rey climbed gratefully aboard. Most of the porgs were clustered in one corner, preening nervously. But a single Porg lay on the lounge bunk like a fat, feathery pillow.

“Hello, Lunch,” she said, stroking down his tummy with a finger. The porg cracked one eye, trilled a lazy greeting, and shifted unsteadily onto its feet. It looked at her, blinked slowly, and gave a second grunting trill. “You’re not pregnant are you? I don’t even know if you’re male or female or...neither. Both?” Lunch insisted on mystery, and began attempting to preen beneath one wing. He didn’t seem to be capable of reaching.

Rey headed for her bunk, gratefully donning trousers, her blaster belt, and boots. She kept Ben’s shirt. It was good, sturdy fabric and warm enough for the chill of space. If he wasn’t going to use it anymore, she could repurpose it. Scraping her hair into a queue, she reached for the lightsaber on her drawer and clipped it on.

“Now I feel right,” she said. Sturdy boots on the floor. A familiar ship around her. Blaster at her hip. Lightsaber balanced on the other. Yes. This was who she was, and it felt good to be back in her own skin. With a quick stretch of her arms, she walked off to find Ben and check in with Finn on the progress of their grab team.

The dress box containing the peach gown had been brought to the Betrayal the evening before the masquerade, and though Ben had no idea what to do with it or if he was ever going to give it to her, he transferred it and stashed it under one of the bunks in the sleeping pod Rey was not using.  It didn't make sense to take up residence in the gunwell again anyway, so this was as good a place as any to hide the blasted thing.  Stuffing the few things he had brought over from the Betrayal on top of it, he stood and went to meet up with Rey in the main lounge.  

It was good to see her looking so much like her self again.  She looked comfortable, confident, and Ben's chest tightened slightly when he realized she was still wearing his shirt.  It made him feel as though the progress they had made was not quite as distant as it seemed.

Sliding onto the couch beside her he leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for her to finish up her communication.  The spoon wielding porg reappeared, hopping up onto the other seat and climbing onto the fat porg that lounged there.  Little weapon still clutched in it's mouth, it settled down into the downy fur of the large porg's stomach and curled up to nap.

As Rey closed the channel he glanced at her, testing her mood.  "I was thinking it's time to find out what the bastard knows."  He said quietly.  "Do you want to be involved? I think I can handle him myself without killing him, if you'd prefer."

“I want to be involved,” she said. She’d questioned enough people to know the process generally didn’t come to actual torture. At least, it never had for the Resistance. She’d intimidated a few people, or seen others do so, but the worst they’d ever done—at least in front of her—was punch an ex-First Order officer. Though she thought that might have had more to do with Finn’s personal grudges than any real attempt to extract information.

She wasn’t so certain Ben was used to those tactics, and much as she despised the man currently residing in the smuggling compartments, the idea of hearing him scream and beg made her feel a little disgusted.

Her comm beeped.

>>You have pictures of you in that dress?

Rey rolled her eyes.

<<Finn. The transport times?

>>Not even ONE picture?  
>>Fine.  
>>06:00, CT. Last check in, they were three Parsecs away.

>>Thanks

<<Seriously, though. Rose and I want pictures next time.

She closed her com link and crossed her legs, pulling her lightsaber up and setting it on the holo table. She glanced at Lunch, and the spoon-wielding runt now nesting on his tubby middle. How much carbon buildup did a porg have to eat to get that massive?

 

*****

 

It really wasn't hard to get answers from the battered and frightened Chamberlain.  Ben found he really had to do little more than cross his arms and growl threateningly before the groveling man was spilling out everything he knew about the First Order remnants to whom he was funneling money.  Interestingly enough, Ben realized that the man actually still considered him to be Supreme Leader, and assumed that Ben was more angry about his having mistakenly supporting the wrong branch of the First Order than anything else.  Willing enough to play on Octavius' insecurities, Ben questioned him at length about Hux's operations, and though the Chamberlain knew less than Ben would have liked, it at least gave them a place to start. 

Rey thought to ask the questions that Ben would have missed, bringing up small details that could have been lost in Ben's desperation to find targets to crush.

When they were done with him,  Ben secured him once again in the smuggling hatch and stood slowly, looking over at Rey with satisfaction.  "Finally...  more to go on than stumbling across communications.  I'll make a star map of the locations  he gave us, and we can figure out where we'd like to start."

Rey nodded. “Finn said the grab-team is only a few Parsecs away.” She chewed on her lip a moment and lifted her brows. “Maybe you should stay out of sight while I make the transfer.”

Ben nodded, reaching out and laying a hand on her arm lightly.  He squeezed softly, then let his fingers fall away as he left her there.  He resisted the need to reach out to her with the Force, to feel the distance between them close again.  She was guarded, as he had once been, and if it was time she needed, he would give it to her.

The grab team pinged her a few hours later, when Rey was shoulder deep in a thermal migrator vent. She extracted herself carefully, shuffled aside the three curious porgs that had gathered around her ankles, and closed the paneling.

She opened Octavius’s smuggling compartment and jerked her chin, pleased when he sulkily obeyed her silent order. The stun-cuffs she’d clapped on him were still secure, and she snagged his arm, frog marching him to the hatch.

As it lowered, Rey grinned to see a familiar face. Vara, the fawn-skinned Resistance pilot with a pile of dense black hair stood before her in the cobalt blue flightsuit of the Alliance Navy. A captain’s insignia gleamed from her breast, and her hair was braided around her head like a halo, suggesting she’d recently been wearing a flight helmet.

 

Her knife-sharp grin flared as she saw Rey who, covered in grease and sweaty from work, was feeling a million times more like herself.

“Jedi-girl!” Vara called.

“Smoke!” Rey greeted back, using the girl’s Resistance pilot callsign. It was a running joke from their first few days after meeting, when neither of them could remember each other’s names and had been mutually too embarrassed to ask.

“I hear you brought me a present,” Vara said. She clicked a small remote in her hand, and the coffin-sized transport compartment started up the cargo ramp.

Rey pushed the Chamberlain forward.

“Say hello to Chamberlain Octavius,” she said. “Once he got his hand off my ass, he started cooperating.”

Vara lifted her eyebrows and released the vacuum seal on the compartment. She addressed Octavius and, conspiratorially, whispered, “You are not going to like what happens when the Senate Leader reads that report.”

“Or Chewie,” Rey said. Vara smirked and squinted at Octavius, her dark eyes gleaming.

“Sure you don’t want to just fall asleep and never wake up? I can arrange it. I can even destroy the evidence.” She made an explosive gesture, accompanying it with an appropriate noise.

Octavius’s lip curled. “The Supreme Leader will realize he has need of me,” he growled. “He will crush your little rebel-“

Vara slapped him. His face whipped sideways, then turned slowly back to her, eyes wide and stunned. Vara lifted an eyebrow. “Get in the box.”

Rey gave him a nudge, but though Octavius shot them both furious looks, he clambered into the transport.

 

The second Vara slammed the lid, she turned to Rey and tossed her arms around her. “Hey, beautiful!” she squealed. “I missed you when you came home! How come you didn’t say? Poe said you left less than a day after you got there.”

Rey hugged her back. “It’s a long story. I’ll tell you over comms some time.”

“Or when you get back,” Vara said, hitting a few buttons to seal the transport. When Rey said nothing, her eyes flashed back up. She was small—roughly Leia’s height, but with a compact set of lithe curve and muscle that—in combination with her small arsenal of blasters—made her nonetheless intimidating.

“Which you are doing,” Vara said, as if preemptive disagreement. “You’re coming back. You’re not floating around the galaxy with the former Supreme Leader on a leash, blowing up First Order bases forever. You’ll run out of them eventually.”

Rey swallowed. She hadn’t really thought about it.

“You’ve got to come home,” Vara said. “And Kylo Ren? Ben Solo, or whatever he’s going by these days? He has to face trial.”

“I know,” Rey said. “I know. But I can’t...he’s not the person he was.”

The other woman’s face darkened. She looked at her datapad and frowned, seeming to measure her words. “Maybe not. Doesn’t un-kill all those people, though, him changing,” Vara said. “Won’t bring back my dad. Or how ever many hundreds more died because of him.” She looked up, gaze fixing squarely on Rey. “Taking out the rest of the First Order—that helps. But it’s not going to make what he did go away. He’s got to stand for it. He’s got to prove he’s changed by being willing to face that.”

Rey closed her eyes and swallowed, fear fluttering in her gut. She felt protective. She wanted to keep Ben as far from the Alliance as possible. But there was a ring of truth to what Vara said.

The girls hugged goodbye and, with a wave, Vara vanished to her transport, and Rey strode back to the lounge and sat, her head suddenly full of new worries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! So confession, Vara is my x-wing pilot OC who is very excited to appear in this fic. She grew out of my RP version of Jessika Pava, who didn’t appear in this last film, which made me fear that her character had been killed off. So I created Vara, using some of the background I’d made up for Jess (which was later defied by the Poe Dameron comic, but fine). Vara might crop up occasionally in this fic, and in the Rebel Antics, though. Hope y’all don’t mind too much. X-wing pilots are always fun. 
> 
> How do y’all feel about OCs in fan fiction? I’m weirdly not usually a fan, and yet I create them. I CAN’T HELP IT. Would you hate it if an OC or two appeared in Broken-Pieces-verse side-stories?


	36. 27 Porgs on the Falcon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry we didn’t update yesterday, all! We WEre a BiT DiSTraCTEd bY WhAT We WEre wRiTINg.
> 
> Anyway, here’s wonderwall.

Monitoring the Alliance transport's progress on his sensors, Ben tucked his feet up against the Betrayal's console and flexed his hands absently as he finally had time to think.  His fingers were still stiff, but since Rey had taken the time to work on them, the pain had mostly faded.  Had it really only been two days since they had sat together in the villa, his fingers tucked into hers as the gaps between them began to shrink?  Ben frowned, trying to hold on to the little moments in the muddle of events on Aurelia that lay behind them.  Rey's warmth under the blanket as she snuggled against him in the grass.  The almost fun they had had in Invigio's shop, letting the little man charm them as they tried clothes on each other and tried not to stare.  The feel of her tensing in his arms at the dance, melting against him before Hux had so rudely pulled him away.

But something had changed, shifted suddenly in the chaos that followed.  It wasn't hard to identify, it had been unwelcome hands, and the desperate feeling of being trapped and out of her element. 

Cursing, Ben surged to his feet, pacing the tiny cabin. He should have known better!  It was never something he should have asked her to do.

The computer pinged softly, informing him that the Alliance transport was launching, the exchange complete.  Bringing up his comm, he hailed the Falcon.

>>Need a place to leave Betrayal, found suitable mostly inhabited planet in 47th sector.

He sent her over the coordinates, figuring a few days of distance might do them good. 

>>I'll meet you there.

*****

The second night cycle into the journey, Rey lay awake in her bunk, staring at the ceiling, turning Vara’s words over in her head. The fear had settled behind her sternum now, hovering like a hard, implacable eventuality. She could think of no way a trial would turn out that would leave Ben both alive and with relative freedom. Yes, he probably deserved whatever punishment they gave him. Logically, she could wrap her mind around that.

He had killed hundreds. Personally. Through orders, it was probably more like thousands. Or more.

But how much of that had been because of Snoke’s manipulation? How much did that really matter, beyond a point? There was only so long she could really assign the blame to anyone but Ben. He was a killer. It didn’t matter that he’d been hurt, or confused, or conflicted. The moment he’d taken lives, he’d given up his right to blame anyone but himself.

Now, though. He was a different person. He was starting to become the person that Han and Leia had known was there. The person that Luke had given his own father’s lightsaber. The person Rey had seen, in that vision—remorseful, strong. A force for change and goodness that would stand beside her and make the galaxy a safer, more balanced place.

She had to believe in that Ben. And that Ben had to survive. Not only for the galaxy, but for her. Because she was afraid to lose him. Because his soul was so entwined with hers that she wasn’t sure she could ever fully untangle it. Because she would be devastated beyond measure if he was gone.

She imagined never being able to touch his hand again, never feeling those thick curls in her hands, or hearing his dark, deep voice saying her name. He fought at her side, a savage presence that kept her anchored and honest and challenged.

Rey curled her fingers into the black shirt she still wore. Her heart thudded hard, and she drew up her knees, wishing he were on the ship. Wishing he were with her right now, so she could confirm he was there.

With an almost unconscious tug, she snagged Ben’s mind and brought him to her. “Ben,” she whispered, without opening her eyes.

*****

The Betrayal faded around him and all that mattered was Rey's mind reaching out for his, drawing him close.  He stepped nearer, sitting on the edge of the bunk she lay on.  

"I'm here, Rey."  He tried to decipher the strange tangle of emotion that he was getting from her.  It wasn't something he was familiar with, a strange fear and... possessiveness?  Reaching out, he brushed the back of his hand across her knuckles.  "Were you dreaming?"

Rey turned her fingers and slid her hand into his. “No,” she said, using his arm to tug herself up to sit. She opened her eyes, and seeing him there, real and full and solid beside her, it was easier to catch her breath. “I’m thinking too hard. I’m...thinking too hard about what happens when they call me in. And what happens to you. I don’t want...” she leaned her head into his shoulder. “I don’t want you to stand trial. I want you out here, safe. Because I know who you are, and I don’t know how to show the rest of the galaxy. I’m not a politician. I can’t protect you.”

"It's not your job to protect me."  Ben said quietly, putting an arm around her shoulders and pulling her against his side.  "Or to defend me."  He leaned his head against hers, her hair soft under his cheek.

Rey's words made him think, consider the future in a way he had not before.  Striking out on his own from Karrakesh with his army in tatters and the ghost of Anakin whispering in his mind, the ragtag new government had been the least of his concerns.  He had never planned on being caught by them, frankly he had expected the die on the outer rim, battling the remnants of his own army, and his own ghosts.  Actually going back, turning himself in or letting Rey do so... he couldn't imagine it.

"So I stay ahead of them.  It's been proved again and again that a lone Jedi is easy to lose in this big galaxy."

“But I can’t run forever,” Rey said. The ache was throbbing in her chest. Grief, just at the thought of having to choose between the friends that had become her family, and the man who was slowly becoming her law of gravity.

She turned her face against his shoulder, amazed that these Visitations gave her so much now. Even smell. He smelled of sweat and the closeness of two days aboard a starship. It didn’t matter, though—the smell was his. And it was comforting. More than comforting. At last, she let herself wind her arms around his chest and scoot closer. “I don’t want to leave you.”

Ben twisted towards her to pull her against his chest, one arm winding tightly around her as the other hand found her hair.  His fingers dug into the fine strands, appreciating the almost-real intimacy of it.  There was still a faint 'other' that Visitation lacked, some muffling of all the senses that was almost imperceptible.  He could smell the grease on her shirt, feel the warmth of her arms and the faint shake of her hands.  But she was still not...  there.  

"Two more days."  He said quietly into her hair.  "Two more days and then let's talk.  I don't think I could handle you leaving again, and I don't want you to have to run."

She nodded into his shirt, tucking herself up against him. “Can you stay?” She asked. “With me. Until I sleep. Like we were the other day, on that blanket?”

Ben nodded, shifting back onto her bunk and pulling her down against him.  She was tucked under his chin, her arm over his chest as he cradled her close.  "Like the picnic..."  His mind went back even further.  "Like in the storm on Artas."  He smiled slightly, closing his eyes and running a hand comfortingly down her arm.  They were building patterns, and this one with Rey quiet in his arms was one that was beginning to become precious to him.

Rey leaned into him, tossing a leg up over his thigh, feeling her body begin to relax against the warmth of his side. She tightened her arms around his chest, shifting the one beneath him down to his waist, where her circulation was less in danger of being cut off. His bicep was a comfortable pillow, his shirt collar a perfect place to bury her nose and close her eyes.

It was amazing to her that, even Visiting, she could feel his heartbeat against her cheek, pulse flowing strong down his arm and in the gentle throb beneath the skin of his neck. She closed her eyes and felt their breathing fall into sync.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awww, snugglies!
> 
> Also, to make up for yesterday, there will be at least one more post today! Possibly MOAR...
> 
> So...what do you think Rey and Ben are going to do about this pesky trial business? Continue stomping around the outer rim, looking for Hux and the First Order? Head back to the New Alliance base for Ben to stand trial? Run into Wild Space and Elope? Other?


	37. Spoon, The Great and Powerful

For the two days that the Betrayal and the Falcon spent traveling into the distant reaches of the outer rim, Ben spent the nights in Rey's bunk, holding her quietly while she slept.  They didn't talk much, and despite the desire to move towards something deeper Ben restrained himself, gently petting her hair, her back as she found sanctuary in his arms.

The soft pinging of the Betrayal's nav system woke him on the third morning, dragging him away from her side as he opened his eyes and stretched stiffly in the small pilot's chair.  No matter how much it felt like he had been sleeping in a bunk, stretched out and comfortable with Rey's body tangled around his own, his muscles still brought him back to the harsh reality that he had been camping at the Betrayal's console instead.  

Rubbing his eyes, he looked down at the small world, a blue-green orb hazed by drifting clouds in its atmosphere.  Local population was limited at best, and Ben set his scanners to finding them some uninhabited location to land. Some place he would be comfortable leaving his ship as he once again joined Rey on the Falcon.  

They swept slowly down through the atmosphere, and Ben eyed the small island that they had found, steep hills covered in low shrubs and rocky outcroppings.  A wide plateau along the western edge made a good landing field, and Ben slid the Betrayal into place beside the Falcon on the thick grass.  Some small four legged creatures scattered at their approach, disappearing into the rocks.  

****

Rey depressed the hatch button, even as she worked on her post-flight sequence, knowing Ben would want to come aboard and settle his things. And, maybe, come into the cockpit and see her. Not that he hadn’t seen her less two hours ago, or felt her at least. It had been dark in the bunk, but she was getting used to the way it felt to sleep with his arms around her, his big form warm against her. Or, at least, the way the Visitation made it feel. Her arm never went numb, as she suspected it would if his real weight was on it. Without those little discomforts to drive them apart, it had been an interesting few nights of nerves and comfort, and she was glad he hadn’t tried to kiss her, or more.

She wouldn’t have been capable of resisting, but part of her wanted to save it. The tension between them was growing sweeter, something both certain and not-yet ready. Despite knowing what she wanted from him and, to the degree that she knew his mind, what he wanted from her, there was no telling what pattern the pieces would make when they fell.

Lunch sat like a feathery blob in the copilot’s seat, his black eyes swiveling to take in the sky and rocky outcropping. He emitted a vague rumble of curiosity.

“It doesn’t have a name,” Rey said, imagining the trill into a question. “It might locally, but not anything official in the star maps.”

She rolled her shoulders. She’d trained a bit, with an old floating zapper droid she’d found in one of the lounge pods, first with her eyes open, and then with them closed, letting herself sense her surroundings. It had been a fun way to practice, but she wanted to be in the fresh air, feet on stone, the weight of her lightsaber or her staff in her hand.

Maybe Ben would spar with her. That would certainly be a challenge. He had more than a decade of training beyond hers. What she did with instinct and grit and scrappy scavenger fighting, he did with purpose and form and rage and muscle memory.

*****

Packing up the few things that he still had stashed on the Betrayal, Ben powered her down and closed her up, engaging all her upgraded protections.  If anything disturbed her, his com would ping him with an alert and send video feeds from the ship's exterior.  

Stepping onto the Falcon brought back mixed feelings that Ben was becoming accustomed to fending off on a regular basis.  As he stowed his things in the bunk he had claimed back on Aurelia, he paused, tired of shoving things he wanted to ignore into the boxes he had built for them in his mind.  Instead he tried to force himself to face the things that he had been avoiding.  

Much of his childhood had been spent on this ship, learning to fly from Han, chasing--and being chased--by Chewie up and down the halls.  Those memories were bitter now, dark and poisoned by the circumstances and actions that filled the space between them and the present.  It was easier to be angry than to feel hurt and guilty, and he fell back easily into blaming them for abandoning him, driving him away--whether or not it was true.  

But now there were new memories, memories that took the sting from the past and made the beaten old ship feel like home again.  Rey yelling up at him in the gunwell, porgs scurrying about and hiding in the most inconvenient places, Rey holding him close and driving back the nightmares... and her sleeping in his arms, warm and close.

He wasn't sure how much time he had spent standing there, trying to figure out what the Falcon was to him now, when he felt her coming up behind him, no doubt having felt the confusion spiraling through his mind.

*****

Rey had finished the power-down sequence with the ever-growing sense of Ben’s presence stealing her attention. She’d been glad her hands knew the motions, flicking switches and powering down systems as her mind had wandered toward the oscillating emotions coming to her down the bond. Bittersweetness and guilt. Abandonment, anger. And softer things, which blunted the sharp edges of old, familiar feelings.

Now she walked up beside Ben. He was a dark column, standing still in the middle of the Falcon’s offwhite lounge. His brows were bunched together, that perpetual downturn of his mouth looking more on purpose than usual. His eyes were deep with an emotion she’d learned well how to read on him: conflict.

Rey shifted her weight sideways, bumping her arm against his in a silent offer of support.

Shaking off his moody thoughts, Ben looped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a quick half-hug.  There was some intangible quality about reality that he had missed, even as they lay together with the quiet rattling hum of the Falcon around them.

"Betrayal is all locked up." He said with a faint hint of regret.  "She should be fine here for as long as need be."

Keeping his arm over her shoulders, he steered her towards the cargo bay and the lowered ramp to the outside.  "This place is... quiet."  It wasn't meant to be a compliment.   "I know Aurelia was shit, but I don't know how people live in places like this for long without going crazy."

Rey let her arm settle around his hips, hooking a thumb into his belt. She’d never really thought about it, but Ben hadn’t spent a lot of time in his life alone. Lonely, yes. But he’d always been surrounded by people, whether they were staff or other Jedi Apprentices, or the Knights of Ren, or the soldiers and sycophants of the First Order. He’d probably never had to worry very much about where his next meal would come from. As far as she knew, he’d always been surrounded by other people that took care of it for him—freeing his mind and body to deal with Higher Concerns.

She gave a wry smile. “It’s not bad if you’re used to being alone,” she said. “Survival takes a lot of time and energy. You don’t really get too lonely when you’re just busy figuring out where your next meal is going to be. There’s no time.”

"That sounds... miserable."  Ben replied, glancing down at her.  

Behind them, a soft warble accompanied a small exodus of porgs which bounded into the grass with little wing-arms flapping wildly.  They scattered, porgish voices echoing off the nearby rocks in exuberant chorus.  "Well, at least they seem to like it."

Rey grinned. “It’s a little similar to their home. Colder, though. Maybe they’ll like it and we can get rid of the infestation.”

She hugged Ben against her side with one arm, enjoying the solidity of him as she turned her face into his armpit and leaned. After a moment, she lifted her other arm and linked her hands. “Real is better,” she said.

 

Looking down at the top of her head, Ben almost allowed himself a smile.  "Definitely better."  He said quietly.  

Twisting in her arms, Ben wrapped his other arm around her and hugged her close.  "We'll stay here for a few days, get our bearings again.  I'll start working up a plan. Want to see how many porgs you can chase off the ship?  I'm sure RD will help you.  And it looks like they won't be able to get a ride off this rock, so maybe we can limit their infectious spread."

“Oh, Ben,” she said. “You really don’t have any idea how to survive outside civilized society, do you?” She leaned back in his arms, grinning up at him. “The Falcon’s low on everything. The porgs found our ration supply, so if we’re going to stay a few days, we’ll need fresh water and food. I think I saw our dinner run into the bushes earlier.” She disentangled herself from his arms and ducked beneath one, jogging up the gentle grassy slope behind him. “But you have fun with porgs and plans!”

"Wait, Rey-"  He watched her dash up the hill, shaking his head.  She wasn't far from correct, he didn't have the first clue what to do with this vast expanse of... nothing.  Nothing about it seemed practical, or functional.  It was just green.

Sighing, he moved back onto the ship and ordered RD to roust the straggling porgs.  As he passed Rey's quarters he saw the fat porg she called Lunch passed out in a ball on her pillow and backtracked long enough to inform RD that the biggest porg could stay.  Rey seemed to have a fondness for it.

Gathering up the notes he had made from their interrogation of the Chamberlain, Ben folded himself up onto the couch in the lounge, pulled up star charts on the holotable, and started to work.

Over the next hour occasional porgish squeals interrupted his thoughts as RD determinedly went about it's porgish purging.  Ben managed to ignore them until a sudden flurry of wailing, squalling porg barreled into the room, a tiny puff of fury with RD on it's heels.  

"They seem content outside, Master Solo."  RD huffed, but its robotic gazed honed in on the little porg which was now huddled behind Ben's ankles, hissing.  "Except for this one.  It keeps running back onto the ship and stealing our spoons!"  For emphasis, RD held up a fistful of spoons.  "And then it attacks me with them."

Ben snorted out a laugh, leaning down to get a closer look at the little creature.  It was, indeed, the small and vicious porg which had seemed to rule the Falcon when they had returned, and it's dark eyes were narrowed spitefully.  Standing, Ben plucked a spoon from RD's outstretched hand and, crouching, held it out to the little porg.  It quickly snatched it up in its little mouth and landed a solid whack on his knuckles before he managed to pull away.  "Oh, I like this one."  He laughed, standing.  "Maybe it hates this fucking wasteland as much as I do.  Fine, let it stay."  

The spoon ricocheted off the ankle of his boot.  "Dammit, Spoon!  I'll change my mind if you keep that up!"

Looking vengeful, Spoon retreated with his weapon under the couch and disappeared.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoon is my favorite. Lunch and Spoon need their own comic series. Sort of like the old droids and Ewoks cartoons. Only bloodier.
> 
> WHAT do you think Rey is going to catch for dinner? Do you think Ben would know what to do with a dead animal?
> 
> HEADCANON/REBEL ANTICS:
> 
> Poe’s dad is a pathfinder. I have a headcanon that, at some point, Poe and Finn and a few others go scouting for a new place to make a resistance base and end up in the forest. Poor stormtrooper can catch an animal, but has no idea what the hell to do with it to turn it into food. Enter Poe - skins and guts the thing in about a minute flat, elbows deep in blue blood, tossing organs at a squeamish Finn. Everyone is a little afraid of the commander after that...


	38. 2 Porgs (on the Falcon)

Rey sat cross-legged in front of a driftwood fire, her face masked in perspiration as she wrestled the carcass of the small, four-legged brush deer onto a spit. Cleaning it had been simple, and what offal she hadn’t tossed into the sea below seemed to have interested the porgs enough to carry off to their nests. She’d never considered the idea that they might be omnivorous, but avian species had never really made much sense to her.

There was a lightness to her spirit now, a sense of simple ease that had been missing for a long time. Exercise and the simple, wholesome tasks of living seemed to ground her in a way that she’d only found in mechanical tinkering and, occasionally, the meditations she’d learned in the Jedi texts, though she probably didn’t make enough time for those.

The sun was setting off to her right, half over the ocean and half the long line of cliffs jagging down to the sea, and the wind was picking up, flicking against her sweaty cheeks and tugging at her hair. She tied the bush-deer’s hooves to the spit, front and back, and set it over the fire in its makeshift cradle, then wiped her hands on a scrap of dark blue cloth. The remains of Ben’s shirt, from their desert escapade. It looked like maybe it was a sleeve.

It didn’t seem like it had been only a few standard weeks since then. Between the collision of disasters, resulting nest of emotions, and the long silences and longer nights of careful separation, it seemed like a gemstone memory set far in the past. But it wasn’t. That had been so recent.

She remembered his hair in her hands, the tie tight in her fingers as she lashed back his curls and grinned up at him, feeling like she was meeting him for the first time. “Hello, Ben Solo.”

She smiled, sent out a tendril of the Force to touch his mind. *Come out.* She sent an image of the fire, the ocean. An impression of peace and comfort. The slight sense that there was something missing that would make the moment perfect, and the something missing was him.

Maybe it was a bit much. Rey didn’t really care.

Ben had been able to extrapolate several potential outposts of First Order survivors based on the bank numbers and vague information about contacts that Octavius had offered up.  He had them tagged on their nav system and was just launching into an investigation of a fourth option when he felt Rey tug at his mind.  Her touch was lighter, happier, than he had felt it in some time.  Tucking the papers into a drawer on the holo table so that Lunch couldn't find and eat them, Ben came out to meet her.

The small campfire burned cheerfully, and Ben felt the warmth from it extending out into the darkness as he approached.  The smell of fresh meat after several days of ship rations made his mouth water.  He settled down next to Rey, looking over her handiwork.  "You're probably right."  He said regretfully.  "I'd never survive out here.  Unless you were able to use the Force to convince that... thing... to let you eat it?"  

Rey scrunched her nose, still smiling. “I don’t know how I’d feel about doing that. Blaster’s kinder. No time for it to even feel surprised. Let’s hope it tastes as good as it smells.”

The scent of woodsmoke and meat made her feel a bit dizzy, and she turned her back to Ben’s side, stretching out her legs toward the water, the bands of molten orange and violent pink that seemed to melt from the sinking sun. She leaned back, felt his arm and elbow between her shoulder blades. “Ever wonder why we still call it a sunset? It’s the planet that’s moving.”

"I never thought about it."  Ben turned his head to look, resting his chin in her hair.  "I guess to people who had never been into space it made more sense."

Watching the light across the cliffs, Ben tried to think of a time when he had just... rested like this.  Maybe at the temple, before everything had changed?  No, even then he had always been moving fast, ambitious, unsatisfied. Without Rey here he knew he would be the same, still unwilling to hold still.

Rey watched the sky deepen, the stars come out as if all the daylight had siphoned into points. Occasionally, she reached out to tip the spit one way or the other, or shield her face when the wind blew smoke across her eyes. Ben’s presence was growing ever more still behind her, and she felt his slight bewilderment, as if the idea that he could actually exist inside a moment had never occurred to him. She reached back, hooking her arm around his bent knee, unwilling to break the silence.

"Rey..."  Ben finally ventured, the silence becoming uncomfortable for him.  Not the silence between them, but the silence of the world that surrounded them.  It was empty, lonely, and he needed to fill it somehow.  "Does surviving always require this much... thinking?"  He frowned.  "I don't think I like it."

She tilted her head sideways and back, catching his eye. “It does force you to get to know yourself better than you might want,” she said. “I don’t know. Maybe you should have had more silence growing up.” She swallowed, not at all sure she was allowed to ask these questions. “Did you not have time to...think? As an apprentice?”

Ben stared into the fire, brows drawing down as he considered her question.  "I avoided it."  He admitted.  "There were times when we were supposed to meditate, consider the nature of the universe or some shit like that.  I played out epic battles from history in my mind.  Or took off into the hills to practice with my lightsaber."  He sighed.  "I skipped most of the classes I didn't like."  

For a moment he was quiet, and when he spoke again there was a bitterness in his voice.  "Now... I don't think I want to know myself better.  I don't like what I see."

“I do,” she said. “I like what I see right now. I like what I see in the Force, the person you are beneath all the rubble—the memories and feelings and actions and confusion. I know you’re good. You’re a darker kind of good than most, and I don’t know if you were ever given a way to be that way.”

She curled her fingers, tucking her nails into the seam of fabric arcing over his knee. “But we’ll find it.”

"That's the problem with the Jedi teachings."  Ben said darkly.  "They're so polarized.  I never could understand why it had to be all or nothing.  There's so much... practicality to many of the uses of the Dark side."  He shook his head.  "No one could see that."

“Some could,” she said. “A long time ago, anyway. You should read some of the texts I took from the temple on Ach To. According to the Journal of Whills, it wasn’t always so separate. And it wasn’t even called Dark and Light. They’re distinct, but they were both used. Both in balance. The Force was understood as something a little more gray.”

She sighed, tilting her head to check on their dinner. It looked nearly done, dripping grease into the flames with sizzling flares.

“That makes more sense.  The way it's taught now just drives everything to extremes."  Shifting, Ben extended his legs towards the fire, feeling the heat on his shins.  "I don't have good memories of my time at the temple."  He frowned, looking down at his hands.  "Its actually hard to find many anymore at all."

Rey was quiet for a long moment. “He loved you,” she said. “Luke.”

Ben snorted, the familiar anger rising in his chest as he shoved it back down.  In its wake pain tightened his chest like tiny claws burrowing into his flesh.  "He had a funny way of showing it."  Bitterness laced through his words as he drew in on himself.

“He hated himself for that moment,” she said. “He said it passed in an instant, and he was ashamed, but you’d woken up and it was too late...” Rey shook her head. “But I won’t defend that. You have every right to be angry. To feel betrayed. Luke didn’t understand how...dissonant it can make a person feel, to know you don’t fit. Snoke made you feel like you weren’t wrong. He liked that you were both light and dark, and he could pit your insecurities against you. That he could pit Luke against you, even for a second.”

Ben glared at the flames, not wanting to hear what she was saying.  The part of him that was used to the bitterness, that used it like a weapon to defend himself against those who could hurt him the most, didn't want her understanding or her pity.  But there were no walls left between them for him to hide behind, and he knew that to pull away and to lash out at her for saying it would be to break something that he didn't want to break.  He was tired of destroying things.

Instead he tried to find something, anything, to say to break them away from a conversation he desperately didn't want to have.

"I kept your porg."  He said roughly.

Rey blinked at the purple horizon, completely nonplussed by the segue. She turned her head to look at him out of the corner of her eye. “Are you drunk?”

Frustrated,  Ben exploded to his feet, restless energy vibrating through his body as he paced near the fire.  "I just... I don't want to hurt you!"  He tried to find a mechanism for making her understand, tension building in his shoulders.  

"I don't think I can..." He paused, forcing himself to think about his words and actions before just letting them tumble out in accusations and anger.  "I can't forgive him.  Them.  Not yet."  His fingers tightened into fists as he paced.  "But I refuse to blame you for defending them, even though I want to.  I just-"  He avoided looking directly towards her, voice going quieter as guilt trickled through their bond.  "I just needed something, anything to say because I never want to take this out on you."

Rey stayed crouched, let him pace like a frustrated animal. His instincts were raging against his control, but she felt the restraint. Felt what it cost him to admit the truth, and to redirect his anger away from her. It had taken a fair bit of self-awareness to access that part of him that realized striking wrong target would only bring him more grief.

As some of the pacing anger wore down, Rey straightened up, sliding in through his guard.

“I won’t bring it up again,” she said, catching his arm. It had been so comfortably against her a moment ago. Now it was tense, muscle flicking with pent up energy beneath her hand. “Not until you do.”

She dropped her hand to his wrist, tugged him back toward the spot where they’d been sitting. “Come on. Before we let dinner burn.”

Ben allowed himself to be guided, her hand taming the instincts in him that still threatened to overcome when he let his defenses down.  He turned her to face him, hands taking her elbows, her forearms sliding along his own as he leaned down and rested his forehead against hers, closing his eyes for a moment.  He drew her calm into himself, taking a shaky breath.

"No."  He said quietly.  "I never will, so... you can when you need to."  He tilted his chin slightly, kissing her forehead, feeling her hair tickle at his lips.  "I'm better with you, Rey."

Her fingers curled against the inside of his elbows, and she felt his pulse moving swiftly beneath her fingertips. His breath was warm on her forehead, the slight drag of his rough chin against the bridge of her nose felt unspeakably real, and close.

Rey didn’t give herself a moment to consider. She tipped up on her toes, felt his chin slide along the side of her nose. It wasn’t until his mouth brushed against her cheek, a breath away, that she paused...shocked and elated at once, to let him decide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BWAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAAAAAA!!
> 
> What do you guys think about the Gray Jedi theory? I’ver been obsessed with it, and I really hope that’s what the series is building towards. There are tons of hints in the comics, so I know my theories, but yeah. What do you think?
> 
> AND WILL HE KISS HER?


	39. Porgilicious

It wasn't something he even had to consider, kissing her.  The night was cool around them, but where Rey's body touched his was warm. The emotions still tumbling through him were chaotic, but her touch soothed them, leaving stillness in her wake.

He bent. It wasn’t even a choice.

Rey's lips were soft, and the kiss was gentle, almost questioning. It tested the boundaries between them, tugging softly at their connection. Ben tasted the lingering evening air in her breath, and as he drew back slowly he opened his eyes and met hers almost hesitantly waiting to see what he found waiting there.

Rey smiled, just a twitch of her lips upward. Something was falling into alignment, filling places inside her that she hadn’t even known were empty. Her hands crept up his arms, his shoulders. Then his cheeks were rough and warm beneath her palms, and she was tugging him down to kiss her again, putting all the answers she could give him into one firm, warm push of body and senses. She wanted him to feel it. In the Force, and in that kiss.

It didn’t feel safe to love him, but that no longer mattered. She did love him. And she wouldn’t let anything happen to him.

Lingering tension was swept away in the sensation of her mouth on his, the kiss deeper, more insistant than before. The emotions that rushed towards him in the Force left no room for doubt or confusion. He wound his arms around her, hands on her back as he pulled her against him. He let the kiss become the center of his world, feeling her lips part as his tongue met hers, and he lost track of everything around them.

It was like a gentle static had been building between them, and at a touch, the spark cracked. Suddenly, for Rey, nothing else existed. Nothing but Ben, his chest hard against hers, his mouth and his tongue overwhelming her senses until she thought they might short out. Her skin was alive with nerves, ready for every breath, every brush of fingers or clench of arms. His hair was in her hands again, cool and thick and begging to be tugged harder.

She heard the soft, keening sigh she made as Ben’s hands pressed her into him, felt the strength in her legs vanishing. Sitting down felt like a wonderful idea. Climbing into his lap felt like a better one.

Ben supported her weight as she sagged against him, enjoying the sweet feeling of her curves molding to his body and her hands in his hair. One of his hands slid to her lower back, flattening out in the hollow of her spine.  He dducked deeper into the kiss, losing track of time as he ran his tongue across hers, exploring the textures of her mouth, tucking away the little observations about the motions made her go weak against him.

Rey’s whole body heavy and boneless, as though it were about to dissolve into the chemical rush pumping through her system. Terror and elation clashed in her chest, sharpening the sense of Ben’s mouth full on hers. She wanted to memorize the way it felt, the pliant softness of his lower lip, the roughness of the stubble around his mouth. The way he smelled of sweat and cold air and something burning...

It took her kiss-addled senses a moment to realize that it wasn’t Ben who smelled of char, but the little quadruped she’d forgotten to turn over the fire for the last several minutes. With a yelp Of surprise, she dragged herself from his arms and ducked to the fire, cursing as she grabbed up their dinner, which was half burned.

The sudden emptiness in his arms disoriented him for a moment, but watching Rey flailing about the small beast, cursing and shaking hot fingers, Ben snorted out a laugh.  Her hair was pulling out of the ties with which she held it back, and her face was flushed from both the heat of the fire and the heat of their kiss.  She looked completely discombobulated, and it just made him want to sweep her up again and test what else she would allow him to get away with.  

Instead he moved over to help her, eyeing the half-blackened meat suspiciously.  "Still edible?"

Rey sucked at a burned finger, but nodded. “Just a little crispy on one side,” she said. “But...uh...” she glanced back, finding it suddenly difficult to look him in the face, except... “You’re...”

Smiling. Ben was smiling. Not much, but the perpetual downturn of his lips was turned up, his long, hollow cheeks crinkled. Those eyes like Correllian whisky were gleaming with amusement.

She wanted to kiss every millimeter of that smile.

He frowned, brows drawing together slightly.  "You're staring at me.  Why are you staring at me?"

She set the little creature on the coals, and stepped back toward him. “I’ve never seen you smile,” she said, her own grin spreading.

Unsure of how to respond to that, Ben's frown deepened slightly.  "I-"

“Do it again.” Rey stepped forward, too delighted by the memory of that scant expression to be nervous, and put her hands on Ben’s chest, just at collarbone level. She lifted onto her toes, grinning as she bumped her nose against his. “Do I need to kiss you again to make it happen? Or do I need to burn some other poor creature? I can kick a porg into the coals.”

"I know a fat one that would cook up well."  Ben agreed, trying very hard not to smile again, although she was making it difficult.  "And if you're not careful, you're going to burn the other half of that one."  He pointed with his chin towards the fire.  

Taking her hands, pulled her down near the fire, sitting so that his hip brushed hers as he reached out and gingerly pulled the meat from the coals to let it cool.  He felt Rey lean into his shoulder, a sense of closeness and contentment pulling them together under the dark star-sprinkled sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WE KNOW THIS IS A SHORT CHAPTER.
> 
> IT’S BECAUSE THE NEXT CHAPTER IS *VERRRRRY* LONG.
> 
> ^_________________________^
> 
> You’re welcome in advance.


	40. The Porgs are Also Not Invited to This Chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: We’re earning our rating in this chapter. Proceed with desired level of caution.
> 
> You’re welcome.

The fire was pulsing with the barest of amber coals by the time Rey extracted herself from Ben’s arms. She felt drunk, aware of the cold seeping into her toes and fingers, even as her body remained warm where she’d been leaning back against Ben’s chest. She’d taken his hand in both of hers, studying it in detail, tracing the long line down the outside of his forefinger, all the way to the arc of flesh to his thumb. She’d traced his knuckles, the bruises where his cracked bones were finally healing, the winding track of blue vein beneath his skin. His knees had bracketed her hips, and for a while, she let herself remember how he’d felt against her when they’d danced. His hands had been warm then, but now they were cool, and his nose against the back of her ear was colder.

She pulled him up behind her, kicked dirt over the fire, and drew him with her up the ramp of the Falcon. A flock of porgs puffed out against the chill wind, huddling in a newly-constructed nest by one of the landing struts. They watched with large black eyes as she hit the hatch control and it closed behind them.

A sleepy, buzzing sort of tension thrummed in her belly, and she kept Ben’s hands in hers, though it was hard to walk with him so close behind her. His boots kept encountering the backs of hers, his chin bumping into her hair as they moved through the lounge. She veered left, pulling him toward the viewport, and the bunks. She only paused to think when she felt the hesitation in him. It wasn’t about her. She knew that—there was nothing hesitant in the stream of thoughts and emotions flowing between them.

She understood a moment later, when the door of her bunk came into view. That had been his father’s bunk. His parents’ bunk. Though she’d slept in it while he Visited her, he hadn’t actually been able to see where they were. There was no way he would be able to go in there with her. Not now. She veered toward the second bunk, and was pleased to see that he’d already seemed to have claimed it.

Thankful for her sensitivity, Ben leaned down over Rey's neck as they moved awkwardly into the small room, nuzzling the soft skin behind her ear.  The scent of woodsmoke filled her hair, and he breathed her in deeply.  Though the time to talk may still come, he felt safe knowing that she understood him--perhaps better than he understood himself.

He didn't know exactly where this was going yet—the heat in his blood was giving him plenty of suggestions, but he also wondered if things were still too new between them.  He could easily imagine just holding her close, watching her sleep and running his hands through her hair as he had for the past few nights as he Visited her.  They paused in the center of the room, and Ben took a chance, pulling her back against him as his lips found the tendon that ran from ear to collar, kissing it softly.

She had expected another kiss. She just...hadn’t expected it to feel like that. Like suddenly, every nerve in her body were concentrated in that exact part of her neck, beneath the warm mouth and tongue now making soft movements against her skin. She sucked in a breath, fingers curling into his sleeve. His breath fluttered her hair, her neck was burning. Currents rushed out from the heat of his mouth, arcing down her body.

Her mind was nothing. It was a space of white, crackling at the edges, every thought obliterated. She felt her face go fever hot, heard the sharp, shallow breaths that dragged light over her vocal cords. A shudder worked its way up her spine and then...then Ben was holding her up, responsible for every last ounce of her weight as he moved down that tendon, and her whole spine went liquid hot.

The intensity of her reaction surprised him, but the soft moan of pleasure from her lips drove straight through him, his heartbeat suddenly racing as her weight slumped into his arms.  He slowly kissed a line down the side of her neck, encouraged by the shivers that went through her body as he held her close. Finding the gentle curve where her shoulder met her neck Ben teased at the soft skin, suckling softly as her head fell sideways against his shoulder.  She tasted of smoke and wind, and he breathed her in deeply.

With a last soft lap at her flushed skin he drew his mouth away, turning her in his arms and once again finding her mouth, hungry for her lips against his.  He wound her up tightly in his arms, lifting her off her feet to meet his kiss, to bring her closer to his height.

Rey twisted her arms around him, twisted her fingers into his hair and dragged him into her. She couldn’t breathe, and she didn’t want to, not unless she could breathe in this feeling and drown in it. Every cell felt alight, her hands on his rough, warm face, his shoulders, back to his hair—they couldn’t decide. They wanted all of him at once. All of him felt too good, too new. The hard curves of muscle against her chest, the fullness of that kiss, as though he were drinking from a long, deep well. She wound around him, legs and arms and mouth and tongue, everything binding him up to keep him with her.

As her legs wound around his waist, Ben shifted his arms under her bracingly, enjoying the play of tight muscle he felt through the fabric of her clothes.  Desire and something brighter, stronger, burned through him, leaving his limbs tense and his chest light with blossoming warmth.  He moved slowly towards the small bunk, unwilling to take a breath away from her as he moved.  His tongue played against the roof of her mouth, drawing in her soft sighs as her hands drove him crazy.

His shins hit the hard edge of the bunk and he set her down, but her arms refused to release him and he ungracefully tumbled after her, a hand coming out to brace himself against the room's cold wall as he tried not to crush her.  Stabilizing on elbows and knees above her, he found her throat again and nipped softly, claiming her for himself.

As Rey’s back hit bunk, and she seized his tunic at the middle, tugging it out of his wide belt so she could cram her hands up underneath and feel his skin. Hot, soft skin, muscle working beneath it as he kissed her—this was better than anything. Anything, except possibly the mouth that closed on her neck again.

This time, the sound that worked from her was louder, laced with pleasure and a supplicating sort of whine. It was an instinctive noise, an uncontrollable one. It begged him to go on, to do that again, and again, and more.

His big form hovered over her, all long thighs and wide shoulders, blocking out the world and bearing down with a kind of singleminded attention that made her want to blossom open and enfold him.

The actions were nothing new, yet they were somehow extraordinary. None of this was anything she hadn’t done before. None of it should have made her want to curl her fists in the sheets and sob. It was her neck—it was just her fucking neck, and the coursing waves of pleasure shuddering through her were utterly out of proportion. She felt heat coiling in her abdomen, felt the fullness of blood flushing through her sex, felt his tongue on the tendon of her neck as though he were doing so, so, so much more.

Her fingertips drug into his back, dragging down to the now-infuriating presence of his wide belt and burrowing under it. She wanted him closer. Wanted to feel that one-point-nine meters of solid, powerful man weighing heavy over her.

He tasted sweat rising on her skin as he licked down her neck to the delicate hollow along her collarbone, fascinated by the intensity of reaction that his exploration elicited from her.  He ran his tongue down the ridge of bone, nipping at the skin, following each bite with kisses that made her squirm and arch beneath him.  

Ben worked his hands down her sides, pulling free the belt that she used to cinch the shirt that had once been his tight around her narrow waist.  He pulled the fabric up, fingers finding the warm skin of her belly beneath.  He spread his hands around her waist, the shirt bunching around his wrists as he pulled her up against him. Thoughts were fading, lost in the rush, the need to be closer to her.

Everything was moving in a slow, steady rush. His hands, big and sure and burning, were on her now, and as his weight trapped her arms, Rey fought to get her fingers around the clasp of his belt and release it. At last she felt the catch give, and she chucked the thing away. His shoes were far away, and—no longer important, no, nothing was important except teeth, and tongue, and his breath on her skin. Blast, his mouth had so much heat to it. How could he do that?

Her senses were throbbing with him, with a fizz of complete, intoxicated wonder at the thrills passing across her skin. The coil inside her was tightening, tightening, and there was a lift in her abdomen that felt...fuck, it felt amazing. And frustrating. And the more he worked her over, the more it felt like it would just take nothing. The sounds that were coming out of her were high and helpless and animal.

Her fingers found his hair, the only part of him she could safely hold on to without getting in his way, and she clenched, hard.

Unable to get enough of her, he growled slow in his throat as he experimented with the attention that made her tighten her fingers in his hair.  He loved the raw passion in her hands, the almost-pain as she pulled the strands roughly, begging for more.  Breaking away from her regretfully, he slid his hands up her sides, taking the shirt with them as he pulled it up over her head and tossed it away.  Covering her again, his mouth found hers as he kissed her roughly, hands slowly mapping the shape of her body. 

One hand braced on the curve of her hip, the other found one small breast, thumb rubbing over the soft skin as he teased her nipple to erection.

It was all Rey needed. The coil inside her unspooled. The tight ache in her crotch gave a series of fluttering clenches as orgasm rushed though her, completely and unexpectedly. She moaned into Ben’s mouth, hips rocking up.

He hadn’t even touched her. Not in the way that usually provoked that kind of reaction. Part of her wondered if it was the Force, if he was doing something else with it—some completely unspoken-about application that would most certainly have to be dark side. A whisper in her brain refuted this. Ben wasn’t using the Force. She just...loved him. And love made her want him. More than she’d wanted anyone before. It made every touch from him feel a thousand times better than from anyone else.

Dizzy, high on the lingering shockwaves, Rey scrabbled ungracefully at the back of Ben’s shirt, trying to pull it off. She wanted skin. She wanted to unwrap him, and make him fill the empty ache of clenching around nothing.

There was a sweet sort of torture to drawing it out, to taking their time with each other, but there was absolutely no mystery at all to where this was headed. Her body thrummed with it, and Ben’s mind was focused down to a laser on exactly one thing: her. Somehow, wet and uncoiled and half naked beneath him, Rey felt powerful.

Ben broke their contact, rising on his knees above her as he pulled his own shirt off over his head and sent it to join hers on the floor. He was out of patience, and the arching of her body under his was shredding his control.  He was hard and heavy with wanting her, and his hands fumbled with the buckles on his pants as he worked them free, frustrated by the time he had to spend away from kissing her, tasting her, making her whimper under him.

He cursed as the legs of his pants caught on his boots, stalling his progress.  Shifting awkwardly in the narrow bunk, he managed to reach his feet, tearing the laces free and kicking them off as quickly as he could.

Frustration and humor twined through her. Rey chuckled, kicking at her own boots and pushing them off easily as Ben struggled to remove his own. He was a disaster in the form of a man, black hair wrecked from her hands, points of color high on his cheeks, chest and belly flushed down to his open trousers. She couldn’t stand that he wasn’t in her arms.

Rolling onto her knees, Rey pressed herself into his back, attacking his shoulder and neck with her mouth, biting and kissing and hoping to Hell she was at least half as distracting as he had been.

Ben's hands froze momentarily, forgetting their actions as she pressed against him, her mouth hot on his skin.  Everywhere her body touched his there was fire, and he tilted his head to the side to giver her teeth better access.  She was destroying his mind, stripping him of who he was.  In this moment he was not Ben Solo, not Kylo Ren, he was simply a man who wanted all of her--who would watch the world burn for one more second of her touch and the soft sounds she made when he touched her.

Finally managing to free himself of shoes and pants alike, Ben twisted in her arms with a growl, scooping her up and dumping her back into the blankets playfully, possessively, as he ran his hands down her sides and down the soft skin of her hips. Settling between her legs he kissed her again, teeth catching at her lower lip as his fingers played up the backs of her thighs, bringing her legs up around his waist.  Her heat pressed against him, the heavy weight of his shaft trapped between their bellies as he breathed out softly, a low sound he hadn't known a woman could elicit from him.

Rey didn’t care about anything outside the vice of Ben’s embrace. He overcame her every thought, battling it back with something as simple and wonderful as presence and heat and skin. Her connection to him was blown wide open, and she felt his need coursing through her as well, felt how incredibly she was affecting him. Though, that could have been evidenced by the cock pressing against her inner thigh in a shock of heat.

There was an element to this she hadn’t really thought much about until that very second, when it was inches away from being inside her. Ben was not a man built by a restrained hand, in any sense. It made sense to think about his height, his weight, his reach, his strength when she had been fighting him, or fighting alongside him. Except for a single instance in Aurelia, she hadn’t really allowed herself to consider the size of him, and even then, he hadn’t been aroused. Practical mechanics suddenly filled her brain, forcing her hands to his hips, her breath catching.

Despite his insistence on average-ness, Poe hadn’t felt average. Ben was a rude example to the contrary.

Drenched in arousal, she struggled to locate breath, to form a sentence, to make her voice work. “I don’t....I don’t think that’s...” His mouth trapped hers, hot and insistent, and Rey let the kiss overwhelm her for a few more seconds. “Ben,” she said, almost laughing, because really. How ridiculous. “I don’t—it’s not...um...I don’t think it’s going to fit.”

As her words and laughter made it through the haze that filled his mind, Ben paused, looking down at her in dismay and a hint of frustration. It wasn't a thought that had ever occurred to him, or a complaint he had ever received before. He wasn't entirely sure  how to respond.

With a low rumble of disagreement, Ben slid one hand down between them, feeling the muscles of her stomach tighten as his fingers traced past, into the dark curls that pooled between her legs.  Her flesh was slick and swollen, and as her eyes widened he slowly pressed  a finger into her, feeling her body clench and vibrate around him as he pushed inside.  He moved in small circles, teasing her as he found what pressures made her cry out and arch beneath him.  "I think you'll be fine."  He replied coolly, nipping again at her neck.

Her concern dissolved, words tumbling into incoherence over a series of soft gasps. She twisted down onto his hand, unspeakably turned on by the feeling of his knuckle, canted at an angle and rubbing in deliberate, merciless circles. She was drenching his hand, her cheeks on fire as her thighs went loose and wide, knees blossoming open for him.

Ben was...definitely not Poe, who would have backed off, reassured her, worked her over until she felt more confident. They were both confident, but Ben operated on a far more proof-based approach. Which, Rey was rapidly realizing, she liked. She hadn’t really wanted Ben to back off.

Ben slowly added a second finger into her, stretching her gently as he worked deeper into her body.  He could feel the ripples of her pleasure coming through the connection between him, twining together with his own as he softly teased her slick walls and worked a fingertip against the rougher patch of skin that made her gasp and buck against him.  He memorized the curves and textures of her, mapping out the places that he wanted to remember, to make her feel this intensely again.

Rey's nails dragged down his back, lines of pleasure that made his cock jump against her stomach, need spiraling through him.  She was the most precious thing he had ever held, and he wanted all that she had to give.

Withdrawing, he kissed her hungrily, hips sliding lower as he positioned himself against her, waiting.  She wanted him, he could feel it in every gasp, ever tremble of her legs around him, but he needed her to be ready.

Rey gave a choked sort of whine into the heat of Ben’s mouth. She was no longer worried—she felt like she was in battle, her vision tunneled, her mind focused, her body singing with rushing blood. But this was better than any adrenaline rush. Ben’s heart thundered against her chest, his pulse pounding against her palms where she’d cupped them around the sides of his neck, holding on. His hands were on her hips, the tops of his thighs burning against the bottoms of hers.

She tensed in anticipation, curling her fingers tighter around the back of his neck, into his hair as his shaft dragged down across her labia, and he freed a hand briefly to line himself up. A moment later, the warmth of those fingers returned, and Rey inhaled, braced, desire singing in her head.

And he hesitated. For a moment, she stayed tense, bewildered. A quick inventory of anything that could be wrong flashed through her head before she realized that he was waiting. Waiting for her. Waiting for the yes, the pull, the whimper. She turned her head enough to break the seal of the kiss, felt him breathing raggedly. “Ben,” she whispered, not sure if there was any other word in the world. She kissed him again, and again, repeating his name with each kiss, pushing her desire toward him, her need.

Hearing his name on her lips was electric, her mouth under his, her voice vibrating through him like a prayer.  Slowly he rocked his hips forward, feeling her part around him, tight and wet.  He groaned into their kiss, rough sound dragged from him as the sensation set his nerves alight.  Her hips arched against him, ankles locking around the back of his thighs and drawing him into her body.  He was losing track of where she ended and he began, the Force swirling around them, connection humming with the desire they shared.  He broke the kiss, teeth finding the skin of her throat where he had found she was most sensitive.  She was his, and he couldn't exist without her anymore.

Ben pushed deeper, then hesitated and withdrew slightly, stroking his head across one of the sensitive places that he had found with his fingers.  It was hard not to drive into her, to claim her, to let the lust coiling deep in his stomach and swelling his shaft take what it wanted from her.  But she was not one of his old lovers, to be used as he liked and ignored.  She was perfect, beautiful, and her own rising need matched his heartbeat for heartbeat.

His name had become a sort of plea, and Rey no longer recognized her own voice emitting those soft, aching cries. She no longer recognized Ben as a different being from herself. They felt wound up, connected and surging together, more bright and alive than she’d ever felt. A hand fell from Ben’s neck, tracked down his chest. She braced it on his hipbone, feeling the warm curve of it’s shape filling up her palm. He was thrusting shallowly, deliberately, his tongue making encouraging little licks at the roof of her mouth every time she twitched. And fuck, she was twitching a lot. He was thick inside her, and the contours of his head pushed back and forth over that spot on her back wall. She felt her eyes rolling back, felt herself become almost a parody of pleasure as her mouth fell open and shuddering ripples of pleasure cascaded out.

It was deep, like a full-body electric shock unfolding in slow-motion. Her eyes felt bright and wide, shock echoing through her as the feeling persisted and Ben, pitiless, locked on her gaze and kept going.

He watched her face, eyes wide and dark, cheeks flushed with orgasm as her body clenched in waves around him.  Her lips were parted with her soft cries, wordless sounds mixed with the music of his name.  She was drawing him in and he gave in to it, driving into her as her back arched under him and he held the image of her face in his mind.  His hips rocked hard against her, each stroke taking him deeper until she had taken in the full length of him, and he stroked faster, breath catching roughly in his lungs.  Nothing had ever been like this, a bone deep pleasure that turned his entire body into a web of sensation, her hands, her nails, her legs around his, all taking his breath away.

It burst over him like a wave, rocking swells of pleasure as he shuddered and came inside her, muscles tense and trembling as he rode it out, hands fisting in the blankets around them. The energy that had sustained him drained from his body, leaving him helpless in it's wake, head falling to rest his forehead against hers as he struggled to remember how to breathe.

For a long time, there was no sound but shuddering breath, echoing between them. Weak hands, finding sweat-slick skin, touching, like each fingertip was a point of contact with a reality that might disappear. Rey opened her eyes, and Ben was warm and heavy on top of her, his muscles slack. They were both shaking, twitching in tiny muscles in the thigh and arm and back, as if there were too much electricity hidden away, and every muscle needed its chance to release. Her heart felt open, full, and as she waited for Ben’s eyes to open, she stroked the sweaty curls back from his face, and leaned up, catching his next pant for breath in a soft kiss.

He treasured the feeling of her kiss, the hunger fading, to be replaced with a relaxed contentment.  Despite their difference in size, he felt sheltered in her arms, her soft hands petting across his bare skin gently.  It felt right, to be here with here.  It was the first thing that had made him feel so complete, as though all the fighting, the violence, had been searching for this feeling in unattainable places.

He kissed her neck softly, shifting slightly onto his side and gathering her into his arms.  Tucking his face into her hair he breathed her in and wished that the moment could last forever.  Nothing else mattered.  Not the Alliance, not the First Order, nothing but the two of them and this small bunk and this stupid, desolate planet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We...uhh...hope you liked that chapter as much as we do. XD


	41. 2 Porgs Inside (20 Out)

Rey wasn’t sure how long it took them to sleep, or which of them shifted the blankets first, but when she opened her eyes, it was to a pitch black room, a narrow bunk, and Ben wrapped warm and naked around her beneath the covers. In fact, Ben’s naked arms and legs were the only thing keeping her from tipping off the precarious edge of the bunk. That feeling of impending surrender to gravity had been what woke her.

Carefully, she shifted onto her elbow and pushed at Ben, coercing him onto his back before slinging herself half on top of him. She curled against his chest, tugging the blankets back up around them. There was a sweet musk to their skin, the mingled scents of sweat and sex and woodsmoke, and she kissed Ben’s collarbone twice, just to see if it tasted the way it smelled.

Ben mumbled something unintelligible into her hair, one hand coming up and threading into the dark strands as he wound his arms around her, drawing her down.  The quiet of the room and the warmth of the bed around them made it impossible to stay awake.  He fell back asleep to the lulling comfort of her breath on his skin.

When Ben woke again The ship's dim autolight had turned on, a faint reminder to its inhabitants that it was day again.  At first, it took Ben a moment to remember why he couldn't move, weight pinning his body and limbs to to the bunk beneath him.  As that weight shifted, snorting ungracefully, memories of the night before came racing back.  Lifting a hand, Ben brushed Rey's hair off of her cheek and out of her mouth, the slightly damp strand tangling in his fingers.  He smiled, slowly nudging her awake.

“Nnht?” Rey pulled herself from the seductive clutches of sleep and immediately turned her face right into Ben’s palm. It blocked out the light decently well, and it made his chest jump with what she suspected might have been a single, silent laugh. Turning back, she peered at him, confirming the presence of that elusive, smile. Only this morning, it was slightly broader, slightly easier. And the gleam in Ben’s eyes matched it. A slow smile curled on her own face, and she stretched her legs, resituating herself and confirming her suspicion that men were all very similar first thing after waking up.

"You're a very attractive sleeper."'  Ben teased her quietly, trying to find all the places that Rey had managed to wrap the thin blankets around them--and between them--in her sleep and work them free. It was hardest to unwind the trailing corner she had somehow managed to wind around her ankle, but he eventually succeeded and tucked the warm fabric back around them neatly.  He tucked his nose into her hair.

Outside in the corridor, a long trailing 'squeeeeeee' and the pattering of tiny feet went past his closed door, followed by the lecturing voice of RD, fading in the direction of the cockpit.  Ben groaned, tightening his arms around Rey, not wanting the real world to intrude on the moment.

"Either that was Spoon, or the porgs are attempting a re-habitation."  He sighed, muscles loose and sleepy.

Rey was perfectly happy to deny the existence of the outside world for a few more minutes, but her eyebrows bunched at his words. “Spoon?” She had clearly missed something. “Did you name another porg?”

Ben rumbled a soft laugh. "I forgot you weren't here.  One of our residents has evolved to acquire the use of tools as primitive weapons.  Watch your ankles."  The commotion outside picked up again, then faded off in the opposite direction as before.  "He... it... clearly grew up on the Falcon, it hates the outdoors.  Apparently it also hates other porgs.  And us.  And RD."  Ben paused, considering.  "Really I think it hates everything.  It's great, I like this one."

Rey laughed, winding her leg around Ben’s and tucking her ankle behind his knee. “That would be your criteria for liking something.” Nosing at his cheek, she slid her fingers up to turn his head, still feeling sparks of uncertainty and wonder as she pulled him in to kiss her. She was allowed to do that now. Not just allowed, really. Maybe even welcome.

Ben closed his eyes and kissed her back, perfectly content to go back to ignoring the world around them forever

****

Hours later, Ben settled tiredly onto the lounge couch, hair still damp from the refresher.  It had taken them at least another hour to make it out of the bunk, and then they had made the mistake of trying to shower together.  The Falcon's systems had run out of pressurization before they managed to learn to keep their hands to themselves for the sake of progress, and before Rey had evicted him rudely, accusing him of blocking all the water.  

Ben was quite convinced that he didn't want to move for the rest of the day, muscles protesting as though he had been sparring for hours.  He slowly straightened with a smirk. In a way, perhaps he had been.

He looked up as Rey followed him into the room, a drying sheet draped over her head and an equally tired and happy expression on her face.  He held out a hand to her as she moved near, pulling her down onto the couch beside him. 

"I was hoping you would look over what I managed to put together yesterday."  Ben said, resisting the temptation to kiss her yet again.

Rey tucked a foot under her on the bench, scooting against Ben’s side and forcing her attention onto the data pad he’d set on the holo table. “Six systems,” she said. “And of course, none of them is very close together.”

She traced along the known hyperspace routes, trying to piece together how someone might make jumps from Aurelia, which ones were the most efficient, the most out of the way... “None of them are on a known route to Aurelia, but I guess he wouldn’t use one of those. Are there any...I don’t know, First Order back-routes that lead to any of these? You’ve listed a few bases, but...if those two were destroyed, can we rule them out? I don’t know if the Resistance has anyone watching the old bases anymore.”

"I was thinking exactly that."  Ben nodded, zooming in on one of the planets marked for old First Order Activity.  "It would make the most sense to go back, at least some of the base should be fit to re-purpose.  A small contingent could easily hide there, at least we've no reason to think they've managed to rebuild any large scale operations.  These are stragglers, remnants that refuse to give up and fade away."  He paused, hearing his own words echoed back across time.  With a sigh, he leaned back, scrubbing a hand through his hair tiredly.  

"But it's not the first time I've said that." He glanced at Rey.  "So we can't underestimate them."

Rey gave a grim nod. Privately, she wondered what Ben had said about the tiny contingent that had escaped Crait, and whether that was the “first time” he’d said those words. Things had certainly seemed dire.

“They can’t have too much support,” she said. “Or, they won’t once they can’t pay for it.”

"I never thought the resistance would come back after Craite."  Ben said slowly, trying to distance himself from the emotion of the memories and focus on the practicality.  "I was focused on individuals that I needed to eliminate, but I wrote off the Resistance as a movement."

He avoided specifics, chest tightening.  Leia, Poe Dameron...  Rey.  People he had needed to see fall.

"I can't let Hux be that for me now."  He said quietly, regretfully.  "I doubt he'll want to muss his pretty boots with the ruins of the base, He'll be safely ensconced on some temperate world coordinating from afar, but unfortunately this is the target we need to pursue."  

He expanded the map of the planet, focusing on the topography that surrounded the old First Order stronghold.  "It used to be a shipyard, first for the Empire and later for the First Order.  They'll have sent any engineers and mechanics they've been able to pull together there.  As well as large armaments.  Taking it out will serve us well."

Rey nodded, peering at the schematics. It would be much easier to just shoot the remains of the base, but the falcon’s central guns didn’t have the kind of firepower they’d likely need. X-wings, or ships with even larger artillery, were what they’d need for something like that. Still, with the base already partially destroyed...

“Are those anti-aircraft turrets still functional, or will we need to get in on the ground level and take them out?”

"I don't know for certain."  Be said, steepling his fingers in front of his face ans he leaned forward with his elbows braced on his knees. "We should assume we need to go in on foot, better safe than sorry.  It was never a large base, at the most we may be looking at two dozen men."  He looked sideways at her and arched an eyebrow.  "Easy for us, right?"

She gave a silent huff of a snort. “Think they’ll buy you as Supreme Leader? I know a speech you can give.”

"Oh god..."  Ben groaned, hearing Hux's terrible script playing back in his head like a nightmare.  "I wouldn't buy me as Supreme Leader spouting that ridiculous nonsense."  He glared at her.  

"It's a thought though... so long as word hasn't gotten around."  He chewed at his bottom lip thoughtfully.  "I haven't exactly left survivors to spread the news, but civilians talk.  I'm not certain I would any longer be met with much of a warm welcome.  Though with a little intimidation and some examples set, I could probably convince them."

Rey lifted her eyebrows. “I’m pretty sure there’s a stash of bounty hunter gear in one of the smuggling compartments. I could go in disguise, just in case any other rumors have gotten around. Let’s see—hopefully Chewie didn’t take any of that junk out on the last sweep. Unless the porgs have gotten to it...” She stood, heading through the aft lounge exit and skirting around to the removable panels in the floor. Hooking her fingers through the grate, she heaved one off its setting and dropped down.

Ben frowned, following behind her and looking down into the compartment she was digging through.  Crouching near the edge of the compartment, he tried to see what all she was finding down there.

There was definite evidence of porgish activity, but none of them had managed to breach the snap enclosure of the large metal trunks. She pushed open the matches, humming in consideration.

“What sort of ports are in that area? I don’t like the idea of leaving the Falcon behind. She’s one of the luckiest getaway ships I’ve ever seen...but I can see the point in using a smaller shuttle to get us planetside, the Falcon isn't exactly inconspicuous.” She looked up. “Actually...we could program a beck-and-call. Automate her to head our way. The only downside is, we can’t give her shields. No way to automate deactivation.”

She pulled out a dusky brown helmet with a heavy breathing apparatus and thick-wrapped gauze. “Well, that smells like the wrong end of a happabore, but I think I can get it clean...”

She peered inside, pulling out tunics and robes and an assortment of leather, polymer, and plastisteel armor.

A musty smell was rising from the old disguises, the scent of years locked away, unused.  Ben wrinkled his nose, grimacing.  "I used to sneak down and hide in those when I didn't want to be found."  He paused, the words sinking in as he said them.  It was the first time he had talked about the Falcon to her, at least, as it had once been to him.  Straightning, he tried to ignore the discomfort the slip had caused.

"I'll look into local ports."  He said stiffly. 

Rey stiffened, surprised at the mention of Ben’s past. She sensed his awkwardness, his quick retreat from the subject, and said nothing. She shook out a few of the likeliest looking disguise elements and climbed out of the compartment. Standing at its edge, she looked back down, almost as if she might see a dark-haired boy tucked moodily between two crates.

She found him in the lounge, tapping at his data pad with an anxious sort of focus. Rey stuffed the clothing in the sanitizer, hoping the machine would do a good bit of the work for her, and climbed up onto the lounge seat behind Ben’s. She put her hands on his shoulders and stroked her thumbs along the new tension in the hard curves of muscle rising to his neck. “What sort of equipment can we expect them to have?” She asked. 

"Mmm-hmm."  Ben agreed, closing his eyes as Rey's hands distracted him completely.  "Yes."  He wrapped his brain back around the question, focusing on it as his shoulders gave way to the pressure of her strong fingers.  "Mostly food an basic supplies, hand weapons, whatever environment-specific gear would be needed for the planet.  As for heavy equipment...."  He paused, reaching up and covering her hands with his own.

"Dammit Rey, I'm supposed to be able to focus."

“What’s the point of strong focus if the smallest distraction breaks it?” Rey asked, but she relented, leaning down and winding her arms around his neck. She grasped her own elbows and pressed her cheek next to his, rubbing her face against the odd texture of a freshly-shaved jaw. She’d never really noticed how it felt. “You were at ‘heavy equipment’,” she reminded.

"Right...  the base was initially one of the old construction bases for the Empire during the construction of the second Death Star,"  Ben paused as Rey's breath ghosted across his cheek, making him lose track of what he was trying to say.

"Dammit, Rey!"  With a growl he reached back, grabbing handfuls of her shirt and hauling her over the back of the couch to settle her next to him.  "Now behave yourself."  He frowned at her, trying to remember what he had been talking about.

"Right, construction base.  We also used it when we were building Starkiller base, it was used to assemble large components for transport."  He grabbed her wondering hand as it crept across his knee.  "That's it,"   he growled, turning on her threateningly.  "You either need to stop being so distracting, or we need to come back and finish this planning later."

Rey grinned up at him. “I’m enjoying the ability to make you stumble over your words,” she admitted, wriggling her wrist around so she could take his hand. “So it’s a constructions base. What kind of components? Circuits or weapons systems or docking or scaffold? Something else? That will determine the sort of equipment we can expect.”

Ben frowned, shifting through his memories carefully.  "Honestly, I have no idea..."  He sighed.  "Logistics was boring, I left that to Hux.  I didn't care where the parts came from, just that they worked."

Rey sighed, nodding in understanding. “He’s a disgusting rat, but he’s not stupid, is he.” It wasn’t a question. She studied the schematics a moment longer, something juggling in her brain. “Oh...” she whispered. A grin slowly pushed back her lips. “Construction factory means construction machines,” she said. “What if you tell them you’ve decided to reopen operations and construct something new? That you’re there both to bring them back into the fold, and to inspect the base and see what else might be needed to get it to be an operational plant again.”

She pointed to a large assembly field. “Get me there, and I can set that whole station to blow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't we love a happy Relyo? 
> 
> But how long can it last....
> 
> Question of the day: Do porgs have genders? Do Lunch and Spoon have genders? NO ONE KNOWS!


	42. Two Porgs Guarding the Ship

Leaving the small and nameless planet behind was bittersweet.  It felt good to have a purpose and a plan again, to be back in the fight that suited them both best.  And although he had had quite enough of foraging for survival--which Rey had handled for them--Ben found himself almost afraid that returning to the reality of their war would change things between them.

Sensing his insecurity, Rey quite energetically proved to him that it would not, and the days of travel to their destination were spent in a fluctuating combination of preparation and delightful distraction.  

Though the First Order base was on the rocky world of Karonos, they had chosen an offworld port nearby as a suitable location to land the Falcon without drawing any attention from potential First Order supporters.  Letting Rey deal with the port authority and the setup of the beck and call protocol in the Falcon's computer,  Ben went through his own things a last time.

Smoothing his hands over the dark leather, Ben carefully tucked the pieces and parts of his old gear into the pack he would be carrying.  He had never quite been able to let it go, even as he had opted for a less... recognizable look when he had taken to hunting the First Order.  He had kept it all, the trappings and symbols of who he had been, carefully put away as a reminder, and a challenge.  It would be strange to wear again, when the time came.

On top of the clothing, he packed the small IFF transmitter that he had pulled from the Betrayal's network panel.  Once they were close enough, it would get them through whatever security the First Order had in place.  

Slinging the pack over his shoulder, Ben moved to join Rey at the ship's doors.  "Ready to go?"  He asked quietly.  "I made contact with a transport headed to one of the major cities on Karonos, chartered us berths on board."

Rey nodded, glad for his efficiency, but unable to deny the little twinge of disappointment that their disguises necessitated separate berths. Over the last few days, stretching out next to him during the night-cycle had become one of her favorite parts of the day. Letting the New Alliance, the remnants of the First Order, and the questions of their short-and-long-term plans fall away as their galaxies shrank to the space between blankets, the soft rhythm of their breaths and heartbeats synching up. It would only be for a night, but she already dreaded the stretch of time where she’d be staring at a bunk ceiling, wishing she could hold him.

Rey had a feeling there would be some Visitation happening. Ben didn’t seem keen to let her slip from his fingers so soon either.

Respective packs slung on their backs, lightsabers concealed at their hips, the two of them boarded the transport shuttle down to Karonos and headed to the bar.

The ship's huge engines rumbled faintly through the halls as it went through its take-off sequence, the floor humming softly under their boots.  Pressing his hand to the bar's entry pad, the door hummed open and Ben stopped, holding in a laugh.  The transport's 'bar' consisted of one small counter, an ancient service droid installed behind it.  One wall of the small room glowed with the light of several dusty vending machines, and two slightly rusted metal tables were bolted to the floor.

"Well, this certainly counts as traveling in style."  Ben commented wryly, leading the way inside.

Rey smiled faintly. “Not bad for a small-time Wild Space transport,” she said. “I’m surprised they have a droid. Nothing this nice within a five-hour speeder trip from Niima outpost.”

Ben snorted, eyeing the droid suspiciously.  "'Nice' is one way to put it."  Slinging his pack over the back of one of the chairs, Ben settled into it uncomfortably.  "Nineteen hours to kill..." 

Rey scrolled through the beverage options listed on the menu and opted for a purified water with an injection of some fruit extract that promised both tartness and a light, reactive fizz. Ben seemed to have been doing his best to dehydrate her over the past few days, and she wasn’t going to help that process along by ordering something alcoholic. At the scan of the little wrist-credit chip she’d donned for the expedition, the droid whirred over to a replicator and began pressing buttons.

“Nineteen hours,” she said, casting around for something to entertain them. There was a scarred looking holo table in the corner, presenting its own menu of available games, with options for bidding against the machine, or other players. “I’m happy to be terrible at twelve-card scrum. It’s the only one of those I know how to play. Apparently the rules I know for sabaac are a weird Outer Rim variant.”

Reluctantly Ben agreed,  following her over to the table and letting her choose the game she wanted to play.  It was a good distraction from the strange mood that was settling around him.  Restless, brooding.  After loosing the last couple of rounds Ben tossed his hands in the air in defeat.

"You learn too quickly to be any fun."  He joked, nudging her calf under the table with the toe of his boot.  Stretching, he stood and shrugged his pack onto his shoulder.  "If you don't mind, I'll go ahead and find whatever berth they set aside for me."

The flight seemed long now, but in a very short time he needed to become someone he had never wanted to be again, and he wasn't sure he could be with Rey at his side.  She made Ben stronger, but as she always had been, she was also Kylo Ren's greatest weakness.  Even if it was only an act, he couldn't ignore the fact that it was one with which he was entirely too comfortable.

Rey nodded, a little disappointed, but still pleased by her success at the game. The little crease of amused frustration between Ben’s eyebrows had been worth the first six or seven rounds of struggling and failing. The holo-table’s assist-manual had been a useful resource, and certainly explained the rules and possible maneuvers far better than Snap Wexley’s “I dunno, it’s luck” or Rose’s whispered suggestions. Rey was used to learning from manuals and machines—she’d learned to fly that way, back on Jakku, and for all the intuition that went into using the Force, the books she’d taken from Ach-To had brought that intuition into the realm of conscious knowledge.

She wanted to kiss Ben before he left, or squeeze his hand, or just give up and go with him, but all these things had to be held back. They were playing the part of coworkers for now, small-time Wild Space traders hoping to expand their business on the rocky planet’s Mercantile Outpost. For her part, as the supposed bodyguard to Ben’s polymer trader, a kiss was not in the cards. She let him go, sending a warm rush of affection and wistfulness in his direction.

Ben wrapped the comfort of her attention around him as he paced through the vibrating corridors to his berth.  It was a tiny room barely big enough to stand in next to the narrow bunk that was far too short to accommodate his long legs.  Setting his things down he sat and leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes.  Playing Leyto Tahn had been easy enough, it was a person, the caricature of a man.  He could not 'play' Kylo Ren.  He either was, or he was not.

Trying to clear his head, he attempted to fall back on several of the meditation techniques that he had learned at the temple.  After struggling with them for long moments he gave up with a sigh of frustration.  He hadn't been lying when he had told Rey that meditation had never been something he could wrap his mind around.  He felt a worried tugging at his mind, and for a moment he tried to close her out, to keep her from seeing his confusion.  Slowly releasing a fist he hadn't known he was holding, he shook his head.  No, hiding things from her was a thing of the past.

He slipped along their connection to find her.  He settled in beside her, reaching out and brushing the back of his hand against hers.

Rey set the holo table to play an outdated news vid, then slid her fingers between Ben’s, liking the way his palm jacketed the back of her hand in warmth. She felt his frustration, the ache of an old insecurity, now reflected back at him.

* _Let me show you something_ ,* she sent, not wanting to speak aloud. She wasn’t sure how clearly words translated across the bond, but she felt him receive them. Felt the reluctant trust and lingering stubborn doubt, and pushed her own sense of balance into it. He didn’t have to do anything but observe, let her carry his mind along with hers.

She rolled her shoulders, and imagined her mind as a white room. She tucked her sense of Ben’s essence in the corner of that room, where it flickered like a small, bright fire. With deepening breaths, she imagined her feelings filling the white room of her mind, pressing it wider. She felt the edges, accepted her understanding of them, and then—as if remembering something she had always known—she let herself realize their non-reality. There was no need for walls in her mind, no need for floor or ceiling, no need for the kind of edges that defined one thing from another.

It was all connected, all part of the same wide, beautiful existence. The boundaries of her mind, her body, were concepts that had only ever existed outside the Force. She was a collection of molecules, of energy and impulses, and between it all, filling the interstitial space of the entire universe...

Truth.

There was no Rey, here, because Rey was everything. She was the space between the stars, and the burning core of a supernova. She was the smallest grain of sand. And everything, all it’s energy and beauty and pain and wonder, was part of Rey, and part of the flickering presence of Ben in her mind. He was radiantly connected, so burningly, frighteningly alive that he bent the fabric of the Force around him, like a heavy weight in a net. Out of balance, but growing lighter.

It was strange for Ben, letting his sense trail along with hers.  It was oddly like learning to fly for the first time, with larger, more experienced hands guiding your own.  Like the actions were yours, but also not.  Rey's perception of the Force was alien to him, but as he learned to embrace it a sense of abstract wonder filled his mind.  There had never been a time in his life when he had not felt connected to the Force, felt it singing to him, offering itself.  Even as a child, using it with a child's lack of thought or balance.  It had frightened them, he saw now.  

But he had never seen the Force like this.

He felt his memories filter through their connection, deepened by the openness of their minds and the one-ness of the Force around them.  Rey was open to him, and he to her, neither beginning or ending.  It should have frightened him--an unknown that was outside of his control-- but he felt strangely safe, isolated, sheltered in her mind.

How are you doing this?

It was neither words nor thoughts, but something deeper, a communication between them that defied definition.

You can’t fear it, she responded. You can’t fear the idea of being small... or being shown how big the Force is. It’s a tool to you, and while that’s a useful way to think of it, it’s also...

She let her feelings spread thin, reaching out as if stretching to the edge of her fingertips. As far as she went, the Force was there. More and more and more, stretching over an expanse so interminable, she would never find the end. It was like looking into eternity, and feeling her life as only the tiniest flicker.

It’s also what shapes us. And everything.

I've felt it... it's immensity.  It's balance.  But this is.... more.

Ben slowly pulled back, finding a place where he was still aware of who he was and where his body rested, he felt the bunk beneath his knees, the thrumming ship's wall at his back, and Rey's fingers still brushing his own.

I am who I am, Rey.  Ben Solo, Kylo Ren...  as much as you try, they're not seperate, distinct.  I do fear... but what I fear is how you will look at me when I stop pretending I can just be one or the other.

Pretending you’re two different people, Ben Solo and Kylo Ren, is the easy thing to do. It’s a way to protect ourselves from the truth.

Rey retreated gently, back to the comfortable place of balance where she usually let her concerns spiral around. When they were both there, two presences settling in together, something… shifted.

She felt a sense of premonition, a pull on her senses, and the Vision was upon her.

Ben stood at the mirror on Ach-To, Kylo Ren, reflected back. The reflection spun, and suddenly it was opposite…Kylo Ren, looking in at Ben.

It swapped again, and again. Faster and faster, until the two were spinning.

Man and dark reflection reached for each other, hands meeting with a shock against the glass. Both images shattered, slashes of darkness and light exploding out, cut shards of skin and glove, wicked scar and deep, dark eyes. They were a hurricane around them, a cyclone resolving slowly into a shape, as cracked and uncertain as the mask he’d worn on Aurelia.

Half Ben Solo. Half Kylo Ren. All the pieces stared out, at once together and apart. Slowly, the seams of glass began to melt together, flowing smooth around the shape of the man he was, the man he had to be. A consolidation of the two—fully incorporated. Fully realized.

Still burning, and beautiful, and bending the galaxy around him. Still connected to her. Still the man she loved.

This is who you are.

The Force had offered him visions before, visions of a future that he had struggled to bring to fruition, to force into his interpretation. He had been wrong about everything then, and watching the fragments of hope that the Force offered him now he recoiled from them, denying the vision that he shared with Rey.  

No, I can't...

It was not only his reflection cast back across the glass, it was a thousand faces, most nameless and unknown.  But among them were too many that he was unable to face. Leia, Luke, Chewie... Han.  Eyes that watched him with sadness, pity, and regret.  He fled from them, from the weight of their accusations and their guilt.  The light that he had followed as he allowed Rey to bring him into her meditations fragmented around him, darkness rising up through the cracks to clutch at his clothes like the reaching hands of the dead, outstretched.

He reached out to the last of the fading light in desperation, hands burning as he held onto it and the vision he had been drawn into flared and died out, leaving him shaking and alone.

No, for once he was not alone.  He was back in his berth, and Rey was with him, his hands clenched white-knuckled around hers.  His every instinct screamed at him to push her away, to lock himself back behind protective walls where she could not see until he was himself again.  Instead he clung to her, suddenly realizing that he no longer feared frightening her away.  He trusted that she would stay, as no one ever had, and the knowledge slowly calmed the racing of his heart and the shaking of his hands.

Rey kept tight hold of him, drawing out of meditation, and squeezing her eyes shut tighter. Sight would be distracting now, while her mind settled the pieces of that vision into her brain. There was so much to process, but just seeing it had brought her a kind of certainty about her path.

Ben wasn’t the man she’d seen there, not yet. And he wouldn’t be until he could reconcile all his broken pieces. But he *could* reconcile them. He could stop fighting himself, accept and forgive all that he had done, all that he was and wasn’t. And if he managed it, he would be stronger.

But he clearly wasn’t ready to do that yet. The vision had inspired the same despair he’d always felt—the knowledge that he wasn’t good, and he never would be. He dismissed it. More than that, he shoved away the idea of that reconciled being, as if the sight of it was such an unattainable goal that it physically hurt to see.

Rey opened her eyes to the sight of the holovid repeating itself. Sweat slid down her temples, but she set her mouth grimly.

It was still progress. Slow as it all felt, this was still a step forward, and maybe some processing would give him perspective enough to recognize that the possibility the Force had presented him was within reach.

For now, though, it was time to do the thing she had promised. To protect him, and hold him together.

“You’re not alone,” she said. Years ago, those words had meant so much to her...more than he could have known. She turned her hand over in his, an echo of that first touch, that first moment of real contact. The first time they’d seen a vision of their future.

"I know."  He replied quietly, leaning into her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We got all metaphysical on y’all.
> 
> HAVE YOU MADE ANY THEMATIC CONNECTIONS YET? WE ARE DEFINITELY NOT INVENTING THEM AS WE GO, PRETENDING TO BE GENIUSES. WE DEFINITELY HAD THEM PLANNED THE WHOLE TIME.
> 
> *side-eye*
> 
> What do you guys think about Force visions? Do you think they always show a definite future that’s merely up for interpretation? Or do you think what they show is possibilities, which can be altered?


	43. Lunch has a Nap, Spoon Patrols

By the time the gentle curve of Karonos slowly drew into view out the small port window of Ben's berth he felt considerably more like himself again.  At some point he had felt Rey move to her own quarters, and though they had not spoken much in the intervening hours, the reassuring comfort of her presence had never left his side.  

Sleeping had been difficult, but eventually Ben had found something vaguely resembling comfort on his back, long legs propped halfway up the bunk's far wall.  He cursed short engineers everywhere.

Rey slid into place beside him on the unloading deck, and he glanced down at her with a slight nod, reassuring her that he was alright.  Despite the fact that if all went well, there would be very little fighting involved in the execution of their plan, Ben still felt the thread of adrenaline that always kept him focused during battle.  They were finally moving, doing something again.  It had been too long.

It wasn't hard to find a speeder dealer with inner-atmo shuttles to rent, Karonos had a decently bustling ore trade which had grown out of the ruins of the Imperial fabrication industry, and plenty of offworlder shareholders and investors occasionally came by to check out the status of their investments.  Loading their things on board,  Ben quickly wired the First Order IFF into the communications array as Rey got them in the air and plotted their course.

Closing the panel and wiping his hands on his pants, Ben leaned on the back of the co-pilot's seat, looking down at her.  "That should do it..  Any First Order security we run across will read us as friendlies."

Ever since breaking atmosphere on Karonos, Rey had felt the tingle of uncertainty. Most of it, she was sure, had to do with the fact that Ben was once again swathed in black. He’d taken back his black shirt, strapping on the ribbed sleeves and heavy black tabard she’d come to recognize as the Knights of Ren’s answer to Jedi robes. It had been a strange thing to watch, but she’d needed to see the pieces go on. She’d needed to watch Ben don the raiments of his past boot, belt, and glove, and feel him remain unchanged.

Now, looking at him leaning against the seat beside her, his heavy lightsaber clipped at his side, he was startling. The scar she’d given him stood out stark against his skin—only now it felt less like a badge of her courage, and more like...the first, and most visible mark of how she’d changed him.

She forced herself to accept him this way, accept the way the sight of him like this made her feel. She had to do that for him.

Rey took them East, over the rocky buttes and warped, scraggly trees fighting for survival in soil long stripped of nutrients. Finally, the first towers of the First Order manufacturing facility jutted above the rocks in metallic points, forming the curving arc around what the schematics had shown as a shipping arena.

Her comm lit up, and Rey ticked the switch.

“Ground class shuttle, this is Okovos Facility Alpha, please identify.”

Ben was aware of her answering, offering up the call sign that verified the identification signal their transmitter would have sent as they entered the First Order security field.  But his mind was elsewhere, caught up in the complicated reconstruction of Kylo Ren.  Donning once again the physical reminders of who he was, Ben felt deeper subtler things follow suite, tendencies that he hadn't noticed disappearing over his months with Rey.  A proud set to his shoulders, a controlled restlessness, a disinterest in things that did not serve his purpose.  He looked down at his gloved hands, frowning.  Everything still fit so well, yet not at all.

He watched the base drawing nearer, gaze scanning their defenses.  The western end of the complex was still shattered and scarred by the barrage that had cracked it open during the war, but the main construction zone seemed to be fully operational.  Lifts that seemed tiny at this distance rose and lowered into the earth, bearing loads of material and finished parts from the workshops below up into the assembly zone.  The skeletons and unfinished forms of old ships could be seen in various states of disassembly, no doubt being re-purposed for parts.  

The disembodied voice on the comm spoke again, giving them landing permission and directing them towards hangar bays to the east.  Straightening, Ben looked over at Rey, his lips set in a firm line.  "I'll get you close enough to those assemblers to get a feel for what you  have to work with. Just let me know what you need when we get there."

Rey nodded and took them down, letting herself fall into the pleasure of piloting. The resistance of controls in atmosphere, the lash of sunlight across her viewport as she brought them in a clean arc toward the hangar’s open maw, the belly-deep shift as the stabilizers rotated forward, banking their flight—those were some of the best feelings in the world.

The landing sequence was quick for this kind of vessel, with their simpler systems. It seemed like it only took flipping a few easy switches and process indicators before she was standing up, donning the close-fitting helmet of her disguise. She stepped to the hatch and double checked her lightsaber’s presence in its thigh holster. It was reachable through the slitted pocket of her wide pants, which were some thick-spun fabric dense enough to hide the weapon’s shape beneath its folds.

“Ready?” She asked, lifting her hand to the hatch.

Ben nodded, taking a deep breath and drawing himself up.  He let the whispers of the Dark bolster him, and as the shuttle hatch slid open he strode down the ramp, boots ringing on the steel.

Several First Order sentries had gathered around the base of the shuttle ramp, their weapons at the ready.  Even with the security clearance, they had been expecting no incoming shuttles, and their caution was understandable.  And irritating.  Ben watched their eyes widen as he neared them, a mix of horror and shock rolling from them in waves.  Once it would have fueled him, if he had even bothered to notice at all.  Now it repulsed him even as it served their purposes.  Rey had looked at him like that...  long ago.

"Summon your commander."  He snapped,  lifting a hand and jerking the blasters from their numb hands.  They clattered to the ground as they snapped to attention as one, the first sentry bolting for the doors with a rushed, "Yes Sir!"

Rey scanned the blasters, keeping her hand on the one at her hip. The mask reminded her a bit of her own goggles and wrappings from Jakku, hemming in her vision in the same way. Out there, she hadn’t really needed to watch out for much beyond other enterprising scavengers, or the sudden boiling up of a sandstorm. Here, it felt a little like having blinders. She didn’t like the forced tunnel-vision, not when there were enemies and sensors and clues everywhere.

Then again, she had something better than sight.

She fell into a fast walk, keeping a step back and to the left of Ben as he marshaled through the little base, growling out observations and orders. Meanwhile, Rey stretched out her senses, feeling the life force of engineers, the heat of machines running on a low-supply of coolant. The unease lingered like a cold spot at the edge of her senses, gnawing at her like the realization that she’d forgotten something, but hadn’t yet figured out what.

All the while, she swiveled her head right and left, scanning the walls for data bank access points. There was a shield she’d have to disable, over that shipping platform, before they nabbed one of the spaceworthy vessels. She’d seen it shimmering blue-green between what she’d taken for watch-towers.

Clearly, the First Order had made some adjustments to the facility since reconstruction.

Ben had managed to work them halfway to the assembly courtyard when the base's commander finally appeared, face flushed and out of breath.  His gaze darted back and forth between them before stabilizing on Ben's face and bowing low.  

"M-my Lord!  Er... Supreme Leader!  We didn't expect you, we thought..."  He trailed off helplessly.

'What exactly did you think?"  Ben growled, pacing towards him as the man tried bravely to hold his ground.  "That I would be killed by rebels who don't know their place?  That I would fade away?"  He was in the man's face now, and the commander flinched backwards, sweat on his brow.  "That I would just disappear while Hux and the rest of his lapdogs made themselves guardians of _my_  order?"  

"N-n-no!  Of course not"  The commander was backing from Been's anger, wringing his hands.  "We simply thought that... ah... we... would not bee important enough to merit a personal visit!"  He scrambled to recover.  "But surely you want to see our m-main operations?  Everything we have accomplished--for you, of course!--has been in r-rebuilding the assembly."

Cooling his temper with a clenched fist, Ben nodded sharply.  It was not all an act, the anger that burned again in his stomach like fading coals.  He was angry, but not for the reasons that they expected from him.  He hated their sniveling, their obsequious groveling, and the fact that he had once enjoyed it.

As the man hurried towards their destination, Ben followed in his wake, thoughts spiraling out to find Rey.

_Have you figured out how to burn this place to the ground?_

_The infrastructure is set up for a series of gas lines with a pressurized fire-foam safety procedure_ , she sent back. _Which would work with regular fuel. Only, I think they’ve grabbed up Tabana gas, which is way too volatile a fuel to be put out by fire foam. It goes up too fast. I’m fairly certain the fuel lines for the heavy machines are the same ones they use to gas up transports in the shipping arena. If they are, we take down the shield, nab a ship, blow one that’s being fueled, and try to get out of range before the explosion hits the main tanks._

Allowing the Commander to babble uselessly as they proceeded towards the courtyard, Ben ignored the waves of palpable anxiety rolling off of the short man.  He kept track of the location of guards as they passed, counting up the numbers in his head.  Despite the rather impressive job they had done of getting the base's operations back online, they were severely understaffed, and many of the sentries appeared to be young.  It made sense, new recruits had not been present on Karrakesh, they had been scattered at training facilities across the galaxy when the First Order fell.

Passing through a giant set of metal doors, the expansive assembly area opened up before them.  From this distance it was easy to see just how massive the lifts were bringing up pre-fabricated parts from below.  The ground beneath their feet rumbled as one of the lifts rose into view, the horizontal trapdoor sliding open as the lift slid into place.  What appeared to be part of a ship's wing was strapped into place, and machinery slowly began hauling it into place.

Across the broad courtyard the bones of the old ships that had been scrapped caught Ben's attention, his gaze drawn instantly to the clean lines of an old imperial Lambda class shuttle in what appeared to be excellent condition.  It was the same model that Vader himself had once preferred.  

 _We're taking that one._  Ben shot Rey's direction, unable to help himself.

 _Subtle_ , Rey said. _It’s certainly got enough guns._

They followed along behind the nattering commander, and Rey let her eyes scan the towers jutting above the arena. Once, they’d simply been anti-aircraft turrets. Now, however, they also held the shield arrays that projected that blue-green shimmer across the arena. She followed the power cables, which had been fastened to the sides of the towers all the way down. Clearly, the mechanics of the gun turrets took up too much interior space to allow room for the shielding apparatus’s components to be sheltered inside the casing.

The problem was, those cables looked like durvalar mesh, which meant it couldn’t be shot or cut with a vibroblade. A lightsaber would do it...but she’d have to have the time to get up there, take out at least three of the arrays before the remaining ones couldn’t keep up.

They’d either have to hit the generator itself, Target the turret arrays, or take out enough of those power cables. And that was just to get the ship off the ground.

 _Do you see the shield generator?_   she sent. _It’ll be the fastest way to take care of it_.

 _Along the east wall._ Ben noted, feeling the vibration of another lift rising as the previous retreated.  Considering their best path, he faced the Base commander, prepared to snap another order when the earth suddenly rocked out from under him.

Gasping, Ben swayed as his ever-present connection to the Force vanished, leaving him empty.  Rey was gone, their connection severed as neatly as if it had been cut with a lightsaber.  Panic and fury flooded his system with adrenaline, and Ben reached out with hand and mind to grab at the fading power, but it eluded him completely.  He could feel it swirling around him, but something held him back.  He barely felt his knees hit the ground as he stumbled, losing track of the world around him as he scrabbled desperately against whatever invisible barrier had cut him off from the Force so completely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the action begins again!!
> 
> So, any guesses as to what is happening to the Force!? 
> 
> Hint: If you've read the Legacy books, you might have an idea....


	44. Spoon Attacks an Intruder, Lunch Still Naps

Rey felt Ben vanish from her senses, watched him react and stumble, and for just an instant, the only thought in her mind was Han’s shocked face, the lightsaber hot and red jutting through his heart and out his back. Dead.

How. There had been no blaster fire. Nothing...

Then Ben lifted his head, big hands scrabbling for purchase on ground and on the lightsaber at his side, and Rey understood. It wasn’t Ben. It was the Force itself...

She whirled, blaster in hand, and fired off three shots. The commander, and two young ensigns dropped to the deck with fatal cries, and Rey was already moving, already seeking the source of the threat.

There was something on one of the lift platforms, some large box or tank, and though her mind reflexively reached for the Force to probe it, the Force didn’t respond. Fear latched on the back of her neck, sinking in its fangs, but Rey battered it away.

She’d fought without the Force. She’d done it her whole life. She could do it again.

“Ben! The ship!” She screamed, swinging her blaster toward the generator block at the base of the shield towers. It was far, but her aim was true. She hit, saw sparks, but no crackle. The bolt attenuated too much over that distance, light redrafting off. There wasn’t enough power to blow the generator.

No time, no time. Stormtroopers were already appearing in the arena’s doorways. She ran toward the ship, firing off more shots. Troopers fell, and more bolts of light streaked toward them.

Rey's voice cut through Ben's mind, clearing his head as he let go of his panicked struggle to reach the Force.  He had never imagined how empty and cold he could feel without it, even when he wasn't actively using it.  He cursed the moments it had cost him, trying to function without its presence.  Hand finding his lightsaber he rose with a roar, the crackling heat of it rising before him as he spun to cut down a stormtrooper that burst through one of the side doors.  

Letting muscle memory take over, Ben fell into the natural patterns of swordplay as he moved after Rey, guarding the path behind her. He felt sluggish, unbalanced without the Force to power his movements, to increase his response time, but a lifetime of training helped to guide his feet.  As a blaster bolt crackled towards him he threw up a hand instinctively to freeze it and barely managed to dive sideways in time as it scored a shallow line of blazing heat across his hip.  

Rolling to his feet, Ben spun his lightsaber into a whirling shield between them and the oncoming stormtroopers as he backed quickly towards where Rey was already leaping nimbly to the old ship's ramp.  

"Get us inside!"  Ben yelled as he deflected the bolts back at the oncoming troops as quickly as he could.

Rey scraped her gaze across the access panel, untangling the circuitry in her mind. She dug into the pouch on her belt, thanking her years of scavenging junked Imperial war machines for her familiarity with their systems. She pried back the outer panel and dove into the neatly-bundled wires. The increasing frequency of blaster fire, combined with the slashing red light of Ben’s lightsaber reflecting off the panels, stretched each second into five until, at last, she tripped the circuit and the hatch hissed open.

She whirled around, gaze skating past Ben, past the stormtroopers...no. One of the platforms lifted high, blocking any shot the Lambda class shuttle had at firing on the generator.

Rey pressed her lips, calm determination settling over her. There was only one way they were getting out of here. She’d need to be light, fast, and unencumbered.

Rey ripped off her bounty hunter mask and dropped the knee-length jacket.

“Get inside!” she shouted, grabbing Ben’s shoulder. “Power up the guns and lay down cover fire! I’ve got to take out those shield arrays or we’re never getting out of here!”

She didn’t wait for argument, just snapped on her lightsaber and took off in the direction of the nearest turret.

As Rey bolted past him Ben cursed, spinning and racing up the shuttle's ramp.  He slammed his hand over the locking controls, blaster fire singeing the wall beside him before the ramp closed.  It seemed to take forever to reach the shuttle controls, every heartbeat ticking off a moment that Rey was alone, un-protected.  

The computer felt so slow, age and outdated technology lagging as Ben's mind still struggled uselessly against the barrier between him and the Force, between him and Rey.  As the computer worked her way through start-up, Ben swung sideways into the copilot's chair and grabbed the control stick for the gun turrets, praying desperately that they were still in working order.  

Through the transparisteel window he watched Rey's zig-zagging run, and as he brought the guns around he began to clear her a path.

Feet from the arena walk, Rey launched herself into the air and caught. The fingers of one hand latched onto the shallow juts of paneling. She dragged herself up, flailing out a boot to locate the next foothold.

The Lambda was finally firing, forcing the troopers to take cover, but shots still slammed burning pits into the turret at her side. The lightsaber slowed her down. It took only a few seconds to decide between speed and the extra protection it offered.

She extinguished it, and soon she was climbing with a scavenger’s speed. Only she was stronger now, faster, proper nutrition and training building the muscle she’d been too starved to keep for long on Jakku. The sizzling shriek of blasterfire and shudder of mag pulses roared behind her, but Rey kept focus, climbing up, up, up until at last she reached the lip of the arena, and the side of one turret.

A cable as thick as her arm greeted her, and with a roar of determination, she hauled herself onto the narrow lip, ignited her saber, and swung.

The cable sparked, electricity sizzling through the air. Rey ducked as the freed end swung out, flailing away from the turret. She crouched, turned, and spied the next one, it’s guns swiveling in her direction. She sprinted for it. Those were anti aircraft guns—only an idiot would fire on their own base with-

Rey backpedaled with a shriek, tucking into a backwards roll out as a green blast slammed into the arena wall before her. She extinguished her lightsaber just in time to avoid slicing off her arm and cane up in a crouch. Her foot slid precariously off the edge of the narrow walk, and she flailed our to keep her balance.

The arena wall before her had a two meter gap, curling with acrid smoke and bordered now with twisted shrapnel. They were lucky this place wouldn’t last the day. Their superiors would probably kill them far more slowly.

Because no two-meter jump would scare her.

Rey leapt across, staggered, but caught her balance and kept running, too fast for the turret’s guards to lock on. Then she was too close to target, and the cable was in sight. Then, with a shriek and a swing, it was gone.

The shield flickered, unstable. Rey launched herself onto the turret, climbing quickly around behind it on her way to the next.

The controls of the shuttle weaponry were surprisingly responsive under Ben's hands, and he distantly appreciated the level of quality that had gone into older models of ship.  He spun them towards the base of the tower that Rey was now occupying, a cluster of stormtroopers trying to organize to bring her down.  

Firing a stream of bursts into their cover Ben took some satisfaction in seeing the tumble of armor-clad bodies flying through the air, fires lighting in several of the machines that clustered around the tower.

One hand still targeting the guns,  Ben reached a long arm across the shuttle's controls to where the small ship's flight controls had finally finished their start-up sequence.  Though the shield overhead still wavered in place, Ben fired up the thrusters along the shuttle's base, flinging back attackers who had been trying to breach her outer doors.  He could hear the screams through the ship's external sensors as several of them dropped to the ground, rolling to try and extinguish the flames.  He dropped the Shuttle's wings into a half-down position, spinning slowly and using the wings to sweep aside debris and men that surrounded the ship.  Doubtless it had been decades since the shuttle had flown, and an ominous vibration was building in her engine core.

Leaving those worries for later, Ben pressed the shuttle forward, mowing a path towards the shield tower with both firepower and the body of the shuttle itself.

The tower bucked under Rey’s hands, and she pressed herself close to it’s ridged body until the barrage let up. On the far side of the tower, she jumped back to the lip of the arena. Here, there was an unfinished wall of rough-hewn rock jutting up about a meter above the arena’s lip. Rey ducked back against it. From this angle, she might have a chance at firing on the shield arrays themselves, where they say tucked back in the turret’s case, outside of Ben’s line of fire.

She squinted, wishing she could use the force to help herself aim. There were eight groups of arrays, each cased inside a fist-sized plastisteel canister topped by a focusing lense. Rey gritted her teeth—that lense would deflect small blaster fire. She’d have to hit the casings. Pressing her back to the turret, she lifted her blaster, got a bead on the first, and fired.

The casing blew, and to her intense relief, the array behind it shattered in a sparkle of mirror and electricity. She missed the second shot, and the third, but the fourth shot hit.

The Lambda shuttle was rising, its dorsal stabilizer screeching dangerously against the shield as Ben piloted it close. Hells, she was going to have to jump onto the gangplank—there would be nowhere for him to set down on the crags outside the arena.

She held steady on the arrays and fired, ruthlessly draining the charge mag on her blaster. “Break!” She growled. There were only three array groups left. Surely, soon....

Activity at the top of the turret drew her gaze. Rey saw the woman—her gray uniform streaked with grease or smoke—brace the end of a pulse rifle on the edge of the turret. There was nowhere to go. No way to get out of her line of sight except...

Rey took her last shot, hoping it killed that sixth array, and leapt toward the wide jut of the Lambda’s wing, nearly three meters below.

The shields flickered and with a brilliant pulse of dissipating energy, fell.  Trying to hold the shuttle steady long enough for Rey to find her way on board, Ben remotely dropped open all the door locks and lowered the gangplank.  He lifted slowly, trying to get above the worst of the blaster fire and give her time to reach safety.  He turned the full power of the shuttle's on-board guns on the crumbling towers nearby, rage and adrenaline pulsing through him.  

It had been a trap!  Somehow, the First Order had known, and had played them until they were right where they were wanted.  

Come on Rey.... you can do this...  Ben pushed his senses towards her with all his might, even knowing she could not hear him.

Rey kept close to the body of the shuttle, igniting her lightsaber in a defensive position, wind and blaster fire ripping back and forth across her path. The shuttle lifted, and it was a delicate balance of speed—too slow, and they were bound to catch enough fire to take them out of the sky. Too fast, and the drag of wind sucking across the shuttle’s wings would rip Rey straight off into the air.

No doors on this side of the ship. No, the only entrance was the aft hatch, and the only way she could get to that...

Rey waved her saber in a defensive fanning motion and dug her left hand into her belt. Like any good scavenger, she was rarely without cord and grappling. The problem was finding a good latching spot. She stepped cautiously out on the wing, scanning the the upper hull for something to hook into. There—a dip in the paneling! It was probably an access handle to some outboard shield circuitry, but it would be enough.

With all the wind, and without the Force to guide her throw, it took Rey five tries to get the grappling latched. A couple of tugs to confirm security, and there was only the jump to worry about. Com links. Why hadn’t they insisted on comlinks!?

Probably because they’d never considered the possibility of losing contact with the Force, and their silent communication.

The ship’s stabilizers cleared the top of the arena, and Rey was nearly blasted off her feet by the sudden rush of air howling over the maw of the little canyon. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about fire from above. Extinguishing her lightsaber, Rey slung the cord beneath her arms, around her back, and with one last steadying breath, launched herself from the stabilizer and into open air.

She swung hard, ripped backward by wind, and was suddenly thankful for having both hands as the cord whipped taut, nearly jerking her shoulders out of joint. Rey piked up her legs, directing the swing around the back of the ship. The cord hit the rear edge of the Lambda shuttle, bent around it, and swung her hard toward the hatch.

The bolt came from below. Rey felt it like a burning spike in her ribs, beneath her arm. Her arms seized, then released, and if she hadn’t already been on track for the hatch, she would have slid down, right off the end of the rope. She spilled onto the narrow gangplank, latched an arm around an access handle, and for a moment, all she could do was hold on. It was like being kicked. Worse. It was like having a lightsaber stuck two inches deep.

Her focus was gone, her hands were foreign things at the end of her wrists. The rope was gone. The wind was swirling in, tearing at her clothes, tugging at her boots, trying to suck her back into the sky.

Then, a creeping return, the gathering tendrils of power. A whispering voice and the presence of someone beside her. Someone she knew, someone she’d lost.

A smooth hand closed over Rey’s, and a beautiful woman with familiar eyes guided her hand to the access panel.


	45. 2 Porgs to the Rescue

Ben heard the sound of scrabbling on the lowered ramp of the shuttle as he felt the veil that stood between him and the Force begin to weaken.  He slammed the lever to close the shuttle doors, mind battering through the last fog towards Rey. He pushed the thrusters, taking them quickly into the higher air above the station and suddenly waves of pain and fear pounded through him.

For a moment Ben's hands stuttered on the controls as he spun the ship's guns downward, and he pulled the Force into him like a drowning man gasping for air.  It rolled over him, Light and Dark, and with it Rey's agony shredded his control.  Crying out in anger, Ben angled the guns down at the courtyard below, strafing bolts across the earth, tearing it to the ground.  Fuel lines...  Rey had mentioned the fuel lines.  Through the roiling smoke it was impossible to see clear targets, but Ben hammered the base below with bolt after bolt until explosions rocked the shuttle in the sky.

 He wanted to run to her, but there was no time for that now.  He threw everything he could through their connection-- strength, support, desperation to survive-- and pushed the shuttle into high speed out over the barren rocks of the planet below.

Its flight was rough, stabilizers aged and unused to such abuse, but Ben needed to put as much distance as possible between them and the base before the chain of explosions reached the main fuel cells.  The rocks skimmed by below them, updrafts occasionally tossing them one way or the other as he struggled to control the shuttle's path.  

Rey's mind was chaos, fading in his senses, and Ben pushed the shuttle harder as a deafening detonation behind them threw the shuttle forward.  One wing clipped an outcropping and the shuttle jolted sideways, wounded.  

Ben gritted his teeth, fighting the controls as he did the best he could to keep them out of a complete nosedive, aiming the shuttle at a relatively smooth stretch of land and praying her landing thrusters would still engage.

Rey felt his presence surge into her mind, seizing onto her with a furious, powerful hand. Kylo Ren had her.  
  
Kylo Ren?  
  
Ben.  
  
Both. There had always been a vicious gravity to his strength, and now it was anchoring her in consciousness, ordering her to stay awake, stay alive, stay… stay.  
  
Agony pulsed through her, so harsh and intense she wanted to vomit. Rey felt her heart chugging in an odd, stuttering rhythm. She was chugging air in short gasps, pain webbing out from her ribs with every jump of her lungs. She wanted to hold her breath, to stop the pain, but her body refused to listen.  
  
Get up! She told herself. Do it, get up!  
  
She grasped for a thread of power, dizzy mind fumbling. Ben’s focus was a stable point, and she pushed into it, followed it to control. The Force responded to her, bending into her grasp, and she clamped down on the pain. She couldn’t stop it, but she could focus past it. The Force would guide her…  
  
She shoved energy into her limbs, a rough growl tearing from her throat as she rolled onto her stomach and pushed to her knees. There was a med kit. Imperial ships kept them standard on the passenger’s side of the bulkhead. She found the marked case, secured with black webbing, and fumbled it loose.  
  
Adrenaline. That’s what she needed. A rush to her senses, to power her heart through…  
  
Her fingers were bloody. The charred seal over her wound had cracked open with her movement, and now her side was wet, blood pulsing bright and hot out over her hand.  
  
She scrabbled at the case’s seal and got it open. There were spots around the edge of her vision, but she made her brain a laser, intent on one thing. One of these tubes had to be right…epinephrine. That was it. The tube slipped from her hand, and she watched it roll away from her knee.  
  
Her arms were going stiff. She wanted to lie down. She wanted to sleep. She couldn’t.  
  
Rey slumped sideways, flung out an arm, and drew the tube back to her with one last desperate twitch of her mind. It met her fingers. Tiredly, almost as if it were a dream, she jammed it against her thigh and pressed the trigger.

The landing was far from smooth, the shuttle's thrusters working overtime to correct as the ship scraped across rock, vibrating as though it would come apart.  Before it had even come to a complete halt Ben was out of his seat, vaulting over the back and racing down the short corridor even as he triggered the comm in his pocket that initiated the Falcon's beck and call programming

 The image of her blood seared into his mind, streaking across the access door and trailing across the floor to where she lay, gasping for air.  Skidding to a stop on his knees beside her, Ben dragged Rey into his arms, hands fumbling over the wound that poured blood from her side.  "Rey... Rey!"  Panic flooded his mind, desperation and fury warring in him.  Her pain burned his senses, and he clung to her, trying helplessly to stem the flow of blood.

 "Stay with me Rey!"  He begged her, begged the Force, paralyzed by an icy fear that numbed his limbs.  He could not lose her, not now.  Blood seeped through his fingers.

It hurt for Ben to hold her. The pressure of his hand on her side was a brutal necessity, and Rey bit off a cry and turned her face into his arm. She could feel the adrenaline coursing through her, sending her heart to pounding, clearing some of the fog.  
  
“The Falc-“ she couldn’t finish, but his mind was already answering. The Beck-and-call was activated. It would take...twenty minutes? Could she hold on that long before she passed out? She’d have to. Ben wasn’t going to permit her to fall asleep, though right now the only thing she wanted was to exit consciousness, just to escape the pain.  
  
But she couldn’t leave Ben like this. She couldn’t pass out and leave him holding onto her unconscious body, panic and fury storming through him. He was so scared...she wasn’t sure she’d ever felt him this scared...  
  
Was she dying? Rey swallowed hard, mouth dry. That thought hadn’t occurred to her. She’d never felt invincible, but somehow, she hadn’t really imagined that something as simple as a blaster bolt could be the end of her.  
  
Dizziness slushed through her brain, and she could feel her limbs going numb and weak. “I’m not going to,” she said. Maybe she said it. Maybe she thought it, or did a bit of each. Her face didn’t feel right. Ben’s face was near her, panic bright in his eyes.  
  
“I’m not going to,” she said again, and her hand felt like rubber as it slapped dumbly on top of his. The Force was flowing back through her again, and in her mind, it was a calm eddy, a warm line of power. She could keep going. She could keep her heart beating. But she had to go to that place, that empty room in her head, that place where time and the walls of the universe vanished.  
  
Rey tried to smile at Ben, and wasn’t sure she managed it before she closed her eyes, and surrendered her mind to meditation.

He felt her slipping away from him and tried to hold onto her, mind scrambling after hers in panic even as he logically recognized the purpose of her retreat.  Jedi meditation would slow her heart, the steady pumping of blood from her body.  

 But it was impossible not to try to follow, even though the chaos in his mind made it impossible to focus, to find that peace.  

 So much blood.... 

 He tore at her shirt, trying to gather enough fabric to hold against the wound, hands shaking.  This was not something he could control, not a fight he could win with rage and violence-- and he had never felt so helpless. 

She appeared behind him, looking down at the desperate hunch of shoulders and tangle of black curls belonging to the boy—the man—whose pain and panic had called her back like a beacon.  
  
She’d come for Rey, just for a moment, but now...  
  
“Ben,” she said, kneeling beside him. Though blue tinged by the bending of light required to project herself into visibility, her hands were young—smooth and strong as they’d been in her prime. Now they closed over her son’s.  
  
“Be calm,” she said. “Panicking won’t help her. I need you to get the wound glue from the medkit. Find it.”  
  
She saw the Force moving around the girl, saw through it, to the larger problem. The heart, seared at the tip by the heat of the bolt, was shuddering through each beat as if in shock. There was nothing Ben could do about that.  
  
But he could stop her bleeding. And he could take her to a facility that could save her.

"I-"  He looked up at her, hands still shaking, feeling the faintest inhuman warmth of her hands over his.  He wanted to protest, to rebel against her words with the instinct that years of distance between them had caused.  But right now she was all he had, and her voice was calm in his ears.  

Fumbling for the medkit that Rey had dropped, Ben dug through it with trembling fingers.  It was hard to hold onto anything, slick blood making the tubes and wraps slip through his fingers, but he found what he was looking for.  Pulling away the ruin of Rey's shirt from the open wound, he carefully lined the edges with the glue, pressing them closed as best he could.  

 "I can't lose her."  He said softly, voice breaking.  "Not now..."

 “Then listen to me,” she said, her voice firm and calm, a general’s voice. “Take the mag patch. That will keep pressure on the wound while you find the nearest surgical facility.”  
  
She pointed to the mag patch, with its blue metallic surface.

 Ben nodded, following her instructions numbly, letting her think for him.

 "I'm sorry..."  He whispered, not sure which of them he was even talking to.  

 Smoothing the patch down over the wound he reached up, brushing tangled hair back from Rey's pale face.  

 “Good,” Leia said. “I know it’s hard, Ben, but you have to stand up. Get the datapad. Link into the holonet and find that station. Stand up.”

It was hard to leave her side, hard to walk away from her.  She was so still, even breath barely whispered through her lips.  Digging deep, Ben found the anger that the fear and panic had stripped away from him.  It was not gone, it simply burned low and tempered, a coal in a fire that had been banked.  He clung to it, and to the whispers of burning pain in his hip where the blaster bolt had grazed him during the firefight.  They were his fuel, the quickest way he knew into focus and action.

 Stumbling to the shuttles cockpit he scooped the device up, quickly linking and beginning a surface scan through the nearest systems.  

There!  A small alliance outpost, a medical station in orbit around a nearby moon.  It was thinly staffed, and surely the presence of the Falcon would put their minds at ease, at least until he got on board.  Then... well, he would deal that problem when it arose.

“That’s my Starship,” she said. There was no real touch, in this form, but she reached out anyway, a being of light and energy and spirit and memory. She reached up, touching his cheek—the scar Rey had left him. This was Ben. This was her Ben. Darker and angrier, but not the twisted creature she’d feared he had become. He’d come so close to falling past that edge...  
  
But he hadn’t. He’d stepped back. And Leia knew that she had Rey to thank for that.  
  
Ben’s need for her was fading, and the Force tugged at her, insisting she return to her eternity, scattered among the universe, a part of its fabric. She had never had Luke’s control, but willpower...that had served her well. Looking into her son’s eyes, she knew it had served them both.  
  
“I have to go,” she said. “But I’m here, Ben. I’ve always been here. We didn’t make it easy for each other, but I never stopped loving you. Not even for a second. I’m proud of the man you’ve become.”

"No, wait!"  He reached after her, suddenly desperate for the chance he had never had.  A chance to say something, anything at all to begin to wear away at the sharp edges that pain had built up between them.  Even before he had left for the temple, before Snoke had begun speaking to him, there had been a rift growing between them.  Her long hours in the senate, his growing resentment, conversation that always escalated into yelling and blaming.  His fault.

Hearing his childhood nickname again brought back the memories he hadn't wanted to keep, the ones that had been too painful, too threatening.  Warm hands and arms that held him when he cried, a soft voice singing songs in the dark.  Those hands and that voice were gone forever, and with them all his chances to know his mother again.

She was fading, leaving him alone with memories that were breaking him apart.

He still needed her. Leia pushed, forced herself to remain bright, reaching for him with the Force. Reaching for help, for the energy she needed to remain.  
  
A presence welled up within her, familiar and bright, and held her in focus.  
  
Luke. Doing what he could, for Ben’s sake.  
  
“I’ll stay as long as I can,” She said. “But I’m here, in the Force. I always will be.”

He didn't have words to offer her, nothing that he could say to make things right.  At the end, Rey had brought him through the Force to her bedside, where she had been brought after the destruction of her flagship had left her with more wounds than they could heal.  They had held her hands and one last time she had seen him, eyes tired and sad.  She had smiled at him, she had told him she missed him.

He had told her he didn't.  To have done otherwise would have been to lose everything.

Reaching out he took her hands in his, feeling nothing in his grip, yet feeling her presence in the glow of the Force that surrounded her.  It wasn't her forgiveness that he needed, he realized, closing his eyes as he let a decade of wounded pride crumble away.

"I forgive you."  He said quietly, letting go of nights she had been absent, of bitterness and imagined betrayals.

Leia looked at him, seeing her baby looking back. Seeing Han looking back. She stood witness to the pain of thirty years, the effect of wrongs she could never right, at last finding a breach, washing through. He’d been unable to forgive her, the mother he had begged to stay home, unable to understand why she chose the galaxy over him, every time. There had been a thousand times when she’d wanted to give it all up.  
  
She’d thought herself selfish, and bent her back to the work of rebuilding the galaxy, never realizing that her greatest contribution might have been the simple, unimaginably impossible task of being a better mother.  
  
“Thank you,” she said. “I wanted to stay home, every time you asked. I thought I was doing the right thing. But I wasn’t. Not as a mother. I saw it too late. Thank you for forgiving me...”  
  
Her form was fading, though her voice remained, reaching to him with echoing ripples of the Force. “Ben. My beautiful boy. Take care of her. Trust the Force. I’ll always be with you, little Starship.”

This time he let her go, hands falling to his sides as she faded, taking with her at least a small fraction of the pain he carried.

As the glow of the Force flared and died, Ben hurried back to Rey's side, pulling off his blood-soaked gloves and crouching beside her.  He lifted her into his arms, the cool, clammy chill of her skin reigniting the fear that still pressed close against his chest.  But this time he controlled it, picking her up as he heard the distant burn of the Falcon's engines coming down through the atmosphere.

"I've got you, Rey."  He whispered, tucking her head against his shoulder and heading down the wrecked shuttle's ramp.

"We're not alone."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG Y'all! I'm pretty sure this is the hardest chapter we've ever written.
> 
> Also think we both cried a lot while doing so...
> 
> Who has cute little!Ben & Leia headcannons? Share them with us!


	46. Lunch and Spoon Piloting the Falcon (They Think)

Rey was aware of her own heartbeat. The fabric of the universe pulsed, sluggish and strange. It felt...harder to be here, somehow, like her concentration was thready and weak, harder to push past that first set of walls, to convince herself they didn’t exist.

It hurt so much. How could she tell herself that pain didn’t exist?

Because she had to. If she wanted to live, she had to. A twang of determination rippled from her, pushing her hard past the surface of her own mind. The pain fought her, but she clamped down on her willpower and forced her brain to clear, her grasp on the Force to steady, drawing her deeper and deeper into meditation until...

It all dropped away.

She might have slid sideways, right off a cliff. She plummeted into the Force, unable to stabilize or control her descent, and felt it unfurl into infinity below her. She could fall forever. She could just vanish, unshackled from the world, her body dissipating into nothing, like Luke.

No... she thought, to the Force, to Luke, to anyone who might listen. Help me....

She landed in soft sand, shapeless dunes rolling out into infinity.  They shifted like mirages in the heat, becoming familiar one moment, and foreign in the next.

"Hello, Rey."  The voice was quiet, kind, a voice that had seen many years and the wisdom they brought.  He was still distant, walking across the sands towards her, though his words could have been spoken from her side.  Long robes dragged the sands as he approached, hands clasped before him, face still shrouded in the darkness of his hood.

One moment she was looking up from the ground, the next she was standing, boots tilted in that familiar way—it had to be just-so when you stood on dunes, to keep the sand from slipping out from under you. Every instinct was to squint, to lift a hand to shade her eyes...but the light was different here. Familiar, but without the same reflective burn of a real planet.

She watched the figure, watched the sun behind him...suns? Sometimes there seemed to be two of them, other times, only one.

Had he...answered her call?

“Hello?” she called, unsure if he could hear her. “Are you...can you help me? Who are you? Where...” She looked around, noticed the staff in her right hand, and felt a bit better. “Is this Jakku?”

"Yes, and no."  He said with a smile in his voice, leaving no footprints as he moved across the dunes towards her.  

"You know where you are."  The sands shifted again, rocky brown earth exposed beneath before the wind blew the sands back over it again.  "This is the Force, Rey.  Or rather, your construction of it."

He was beside her then, face still shadowed.  "Come, sit with me."

Rey wasn’t startled. Somehow, him suddenly appearing beside her wasn’t surprising—it was right. So was the appearance of the half-buried AT-AT walker she’d once called home. As soon as she knew it was there, they were sitting on it, side-by-side.

He was tall, broadly built and large of hand and foot. There was a serenity emanating from him, soothing the edges of her mind like a cool breeze.

Her brain scavenged for names, for people she had heard of in stories. People who might have responded to her call.

“...Ben?” She ventured. “Master Kenobi?”

He laughed then, large hands reaching up to pull down the large hood of his Jedi robes.  

"Not exactly."  He said, smiling, the weathered lines of his face hauntingly familiar and yet different from the faces she had known--from Luke's, from Leia's.  His eyes were dark, warm, and very, very much like Ben's.  "I'm not sure if he would be amused or insulted by the comparison." 

Rey stared, and all at once, she knew who she was looking at—a man whose face she had only seen in 50-year-old Clone War holos. He was older now, perhaps in his fifties, with a neat thatch of gray waves and a twinkle of humor in his eyes.

“You’re...” she could hardly say it. “Anakin Skywalker. Ben’s grandfather.”

Darth Vader.

If she’d been breathing in whatever Force-constructed place this was, she might have stopped, then. The wind picked up, whipping a veil of sand past them, as if to demonstrate the tumult in her mind.

Rey shook her head. “...why? Why did you answer?”

"I wanted to meet you for myself, to see what kind of woman he loves."  He looked up at the sky, at the twin suns that now slowly arced towards the horizon.  "He needs you now, he's still not ready.  If he loses you..."

He turned to look at her again, serious.  "We'll lose him."

Rey frowned. It wasn’t anything more than she’d thought herself, and yet, to hear it from someone else. To hear it from Anakin Skywalker, Darth Vader himself, somehow made it feel much closer to reality.

“I don’t know what else to do,” she said honestly. “I know meditation will help to slow everything down, but we’re so far from everything... I don’t want to leave him. I know it’s too soon.”

She looked up, feeling suddenly uncertain. It was a question she knew she shouldn’t ask, and yet she had to know. “That was what finally did it for you, wasn’t it? Losing Ben’s grandmother? It’s what Leia said.”

"It was a large part."  He replied sadly.  "And, like Ben, if there were rules I always felt the need to test them, to break them if I could."  

He rested a large hand over hers comfortingly.  "You can hold on, Rey, you have to.  I'll wait with you, if you like.  He's doing everything he can to save you."

She’d never doubted that. From the moment she surrendered her consciousness to the Force, she knew he would be there, doing whatever he could to save her.

“And after?” she asked. “How can I save him? He’s done so much, hurt and killed so many people... No matter how much good he’s doing, or how much good he’s capable of in the future, I know there are still crimes people will expect him to answer for. I know it’s selfish of me not to want him to, but... these are the people I fought for. This is the galaxy I fought for. And the people still working to rebuild it all? They’re my family. Just as much as Ben is. I can’t abandon them either. Not as a friend, and not as a Jedi.”

She shook her head. “It’s all so confusing. I wish...” she sighed. “Well, I guess Luke didn’t really know what he was doing either, did he? There had to have been some wise Jedi master at some point.”

"Not in my experience."  Anakin annswered with a laugh, before considering her deeper question.  

"You already have saved him.  I watched for too long as he followed my path, perhaps I watched too closely.  I have wondered if he felt my presence, if that darkness that I carry made him reach for what I once was.  And at some point..."  He shook his head sadly.  "He was no longer willingh to listen to me.  You changed that, your persistence and your Light.  It drew him, and it frightened him, and when he could no longer find a path on his own he was finally willing to let me through.  

"I wasted a lifetime devoting myself to the darkness because I was broken and angry.  I never had the time to fix what I had broken.  He still does.  But it has to be right, Rey.  He can't run forever, and you can't protect him forever.  Trust the Light in him, and trust those you love."

Rey felt fear ribboning through her. She trusted Ben, provided she was around to keep him from sliding back, and she did trust her friends. But the terrified part, the part that didn’t want to lose him, wasn’t willing to trust them with Ben’s life. There was too much history there. How was it possible for them to ever begin understanding him, when it had taken an unbreakable Force bond and several years of furious mistrust for her to do the same?

The sand shifted around them, rippling out into an image of the Goezon badlands, warping again to show red, rocky crags not native to Jakku. Perhaps both of them were making this place. She had no idea where else it might be, what other desert planets were out there. Luke had grown up on one—Tattooine, if the stories she’d heard as a child were true. But Anakin Skywalker... well, she wasn’t sure where he was from, only that he’d grown up as a Jedi apprentice on Corescant.

Anakin’s power was evident, cool and calm and deep as anything. It couldn’t have always been that way. Perhaps it was only so now that the Force had claimed him, cleansed him with redemption, and allowed him to exist in this strange mirage of an internal world. Whatever the reason, it gave her an anchor. She let herself feel his presence, and burn next to it.

“Stay with me,” she said.

 *****

Carefully laying Rey down on the bunk in the main lounge, Ben ignored the confused and worried mowling of the porgs as he hurried to the Falcon's cockpit.  Linking the tablet with the medical station data into the Falcon's nav computer, his fingers flew across the Falcon's controls, launching her into the air and setting her onto her path.  Once they had made it out of Karonos' atmosphere he switched her over to priority autopilot and rushed back to check on Rey.

Lunch was tucked in by her head, little mouth carefully grooming through Rey's tangled hair, and Spoon was crouched watchfully at the foot of the bunk, scanning the room for enemies.  Hurrying to her side, Ben crouched beside her and cursed as he saw dark red beginning to stain the mattress of the bunk beneath her.  With a swift lance of Force-directed intent, he commanded the porgs to find the medkit and something he could use to halt the bleeding again.  They scattered, squawking and scrabbling across the Falcon's floor.

Ben wished for Leia's calm guidance again, heart hammering in his chest as he slowly pulled back what was left of her shirt to inspect the wound.  The edges of the mag patch had lifted up, the soaked glue pulling free along one side.  Her blood pumped slower now, no doubt a result of both the Force-aided coma she had entered and the slow failing of her heart.  

A rhythmic banging herelded the return of Lunch, the medkit jolting unevenly across the floor as the big porg dragged it awkwardly.  Snatching it up, Ben dug through it, cursing.  They were far lower on supplies than he liked.  Grabbing out an antibiotic pack,  Ben pressed the head of the device against Rey's arm, the microneedles releasing a strong medication into her bloodstream. Scampering feet brought Spoon back up to his side, and the little porg deposited a pile of slightly feathery fabric onto his knees, no doubt a treasure from whatever hidden nest they had never been able to find.  Snatching it up Ben pressed it hard against Rey's side, binding it down as tightly as he could with strips of gauze from what little remained in the kit. 

There was nothing more he could do, nothing but wait and hold onto her, and beg the Force to keep her with him.  He lifted a shaking hand to her face, tracing the line of her cheek, of her jaw with blood-stained fingers.

"You have to hold on for me, Rey."  He begged, feeling the dark and angry pull of vengeance tugging at his soul.  Hux would pay for this, would die slowly, painfully.

Ben felt the Falcon's drop from hyperspace, the pinging of the radar echoing as the Falcon's sensors picked up the Alliance station.  "Here we go, Rey."  He said softly, dropping a quick kiss onto her hand before dashing back to the cockpit to bring them in for a landing.  He tasted her blood on his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sand... so much sand...
> 
> What's your opinion on sand? 
> 
> (Personally I find it always gets into the worst parts of swimsuits. And the heat! Blech. ~Sathya)


	47. A Crooning Porg

Rey’s head felt like a star destroyer, crashed into the sand and buried for three decades. Her eyes, crusted shut. Her body somehow both empty and heavy. Her ear, vibrating with the sound of Anakin’s voice.

No. That wasn’t Anakin, it was a different sound. A crooning porg, and the more insistent buzz of an incoming comms call.

The comm link slid from her pillow as Rey clumsily dragged her hand up to take it. A ball of fluff moved in her periphery, but her eyes could only focus on one thing at a time. There was something in her arm, a fueling line? No, she was not a star destroyer and this looked...medical. A bag, with a label, dripping slowly into the tube in her arm.

Reality spilled back over her in a gooey slide. She was on the Falcon, in Ben’s room. There was a medical bag suspended from the next bunk up, and a biotelemetry monitor projecting a hologram of her internal systems. Beside the projection of her own rotating figure flashed a set of indecipherable numbers, and a rash of terms she didn’t understand.

A nudge at her hand. Rey glanced down to find Lunch, appearing as though he wasn’t sure whether he should give her the comm link or eat it.

“Give it here,” she said, pushing a bit with the Force. The porg pressed the buzzing comm into her hand. Rey pressed the answer button, but it seemed like a long time before she was able to lift it toward her face. Her movements were gluey and slow. “Hello?”

"Rey!  Fuck, Rey, are you alright?"  It was Poe's voice, rough and panicky.  In the background other voices could be heard, a chorus of concern and unintelligible questions.  Finn's voice separated from the crowd, begging to talk to her.  "Hey, hey, stand back!  Rose, get him under control!  No, stop, I'll tell you what she says!"  Poe sounded stressed, tense.  "Rey?  What happened?"

“I...what?” Rey said. “Poe? I’m...I’m on the Falcon.”

It wasn’t an answer to his question. The problem was, she didn’t really know an answer to his question. “We blew up a First Order manufacturing facility...” That was closer. “I think.”

"What?"  Poe sounded confused.  "No, that's not what I'm asking.  We'll get back to that later. What happened to you?  You shouldn't have left the facility so soon.  It sounds like your injuries were really bad, Ace.  My staff is really confused.  What the hell happened?  I'm getting crazy reports."

“Left...” Rey’s mind churned. She wasn’t sure quite what Poe was talking about. The last thing she remembered was... a hand on hers. Spilling through the hatch of that Lambda class ship, injecting herself with epinephrine. Ben, holding onto her. “I got...shot,” she said. Then, glancing at the revolving display, she said. “In...the heart? The edge of it? There’s a display...wait a minute, I can maybe read it...”

"In the heart."  Poes voice was flat.  "The reports coming in from my medical team were confused about a lot of things, but they did agree on one thing.  You almost died.  Rey, did he get you into this?  Did he _do_  this?"

He...Ben. Poe thought Ben did this? Rey heard herself laughing, a muted, drunken sort of giggle. “No,” she said. “He’s...” she swiveled her head, and looked at Lunch. Lunch looked at the floor. Rey followed his gaze.

Ben leaned against the dresser, head bowed to his chest, arms looking like they’d been crossed at one point, but gone slack in sleep. She became aware of the gentle snore.

“He’s on the floor. He...saved me. I had to use the Force to stay alive, and I talked to Anakin. He told me I had to stay alive.”

"He... You talked to..."  Poe sounded confused.  "Wait, what?  Who did?"  He sighed, tension evident in his tone.  "Look, Ace, you've clearly been through a lot.  And, from the sound of it, they put you on some pretty heavy drugs before you... disappeared.  Will you promise to call in when you're feeling a little clearer?  We need to talk.”

“Yes,” she said. “I can-“ she reached for the biotelemetry droid. It hurt, but dully. “Ow...” she grunted, almost out of habit. “I can send you...hang on.” She plugged the data port into her comm and sloppily patched through the data. “There. Alive. See?”

"I can see that.  I'm going to have some techs look over your medical data.  Try to get rest, Ace.  And I was serious, you call me."

She could hear him trying to fend off the worried questions of her other friends as he disconnected, leaving her with the soft hissing of an empty comm line.

She grunted, let the comm fall to the mattress, where it rolled off to the floor and skittered against Ben’s boot.

An angry puff shot up from the far side of Ben’s thigh, spoon in mouth, and attacked the unfortunate comlink, flinging it against the door. With a high pitched trill, it leapt onto Ben’s knee and launched itself onto her bed, where it began to viciously sweep the spoon through the rotating image of Rey’s body.

The porgish commotion roused Ben from his sleep, a headache pounding behind his temples.  He had used the Force too heavily, had pushed himself too far.  It had been all he could do to get the Falcon back into motion, to set their nav for empty space and make sure that Rey was carefully installed in his quarters.  He had wanted to stay and watch over her, but consciousness had not been on his side.

With a tired groan he pulled himself up, hair falling into his eyes as he glanced towards her, prepared to shoo Spoon away before the little porg woke her or meddled with her medical equipment.  Instead he met Rey's gaze, and a wave of relief swept through him.

"Rey..."  He pulled himself to her, kneeling at the edge of her bunk and taking one of her hands into his.  "You're awake..."

“We blew them up, right?” she said. “Please say we blew them up.”

Ben frowned, squeezing her fingers.  "Of course we did."  

He reached out and rested a hand against the line of her face, thumb smoothing over her cheek gently.  "You think I would have forgotten that rather important part?"

“...stupid question,” she agreed, turning her face to press more firmly into his hand. Her cheek felt slightly numb, but there was a bit of heat transferring through. She closed her eyes.

It might have been seconds, or it might have been ten minutes later when it occurred to her to speak. “What happened?” She asked, eyes closed. “I got a frantic call from Poe. How...the medical equipment. What...did you do?”

Possibly not the best phrasing, but she trusted him to divine her meaning, if not from her words, than through their bond.

"You needed more medical attention than I could give you."  He said roughly, memory of losing her still raw in his mind.  "I had to take you somewhere, and the only medical station close enough was an Alliance outpost."  He paused, remembering the chaos when he had walked down the ramp with Rey in his arms, still fully geared as Kylo Ren.

"They... didn't react well.  I had to use the Force."

She imagined him walking through the medical facility, carrying her in his arms, that deep voice commanding doctors and personnel to see to her, to forget he was there. It would have been a bit funny, if the idea of almost dying hadn’t scared her so much.

“It was my heart?” She asked. “The biotelemetry says it was my heart. The...apex? Got...burned or something? I don’t really understand the jargon.”

"It doesn't matter now."  Ben shook his head, checking over the readouts on the hanging machine.  "I didn't understand a lot of it either, but you're going to be fine.  "We're in deep space now, no one can find us out here while you recover."  

His face darkened, restrained anger in his voice.  "And then we hunt down that bastard Hux, and deal with him for once and for all.  He must have figured something out on Aurelia, put his men on alert.  They were expecting us.  Or at least me."

Rey remembered the cold feeling of being cut off from the Force with a shudder. “I didn’t realize it was possible to cut someone off from the Force. I thought it touched...everything.”

"It does.  It was still there, we just couldn't manipulate it.  It became as dead to us as to those who are not sensitive to it."  He stood stiffly, taking seat on the narrow edge of the bunk beside her.  "I read about a creature, when I studied at the temple.  Some kind of lizard that creates a Force-dampening sphere.  Doubtless Hux has been searching for ways to cripple me, probably for years.  He must have come across them somehow."

Ben pressed tired fingers to his temple, head still pounding.  "We'll have to expect that in the future."

Rey turned to look at the ceiling of the bunk, completely nonplussed. “Force-dampening...lizards.”

He patted her hand again comfortingly. “I’ll explain it again when you’re not high.”

Rey groaned, and pulled Ben’s hand over her face to block out the light. “This is horrible. My head feels like it’s full of sand.”

Sand. A smiling man. Anakin.

Rey shot upward and made it half way to a sitting position before her body mutinied and sent her sprawling back into the bed. “Ben! Ben—I saw—I talked to..."

"Hey, hey!"  Ben frowned, helping her settle back down, and checking quickly over the connections to the medical monitor.

"You stay down!"  He ordered, tucking the blankets up around her again.  There was a ghost of sadness in his dark eyes.  "I know, Rey.  I saw her too."

“No!” Rey said. “Not the woman who helped me, the...in the...” she waved her hand around. “Meditation place. The sand—Jakku, or Tattooine or wherever we were. I talked to Anakin Skywalker. He...he came to help me.”

She realized belatedly that Ben might be upset by the news that his former hero had come to speak with her.

"The woman who..  Rey, that was Leia."  He paused, the rest of her words hitting him and rolling through his brain slowly.

"Wait.. you spoke with Anakin?" His brows drew together and he looked down at his hands, surprised that he wasn't feeling more... anything.  He was too tired, too drained to feel much, he supposed.  The last twenty four hours had been a sleepless roller coaster, watching Rey dying, speaking with Leia, the frantic detour by the medial base, the constant drain of using the Force.  He was numb.

"What did he say?"

Rey was processing his words even as Ben was processing hers. Leia—but she’d looked so young. Rey had seen holos of Leia before, when she had been a senator, but she’d never looked very different. Then again, this was the youngest she’d ever seen her—perhaps thirty, maybe younger.

As Ben spoke, she looked up at him, shaking off one memory only to go hunting through he murk of her brain for another.

“He told me to hold on. He was afraid that if I died, you would...wouldn’t get the chance to make things right. He waited with me.”

"I'm glad you weren't alone." Ben said quietly, wanting desperately to just curl up beside her on the narrow bunk, to hold her close and remind himself that she was alive while he slept. Her injury wouldn't allow for that.

"You came too close." his voice darkened. "Don't do that again.”

Eyes still closed, she gave a halfhearted laugh and squeezed his hand. After a beat of woozy silence, she said, “I’ll do my best.”

Ben watched over her as she drifted off again, the drugs and the stress of what she had been through lulling her back into rest.  He slid slowly to the floor beside her bed, leaning back against the bunk and closing his eyes.  He tried again to stay awake, but exhaustion slid back over him like a curtain, drawing him back down into the half-unconcious meditation of sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooo! Some of you were totally right about the Ysalimiri—the force-blocking lizards originally seen in Zahn’s original Thrawn trilogy.
> 
> I’m curious, what got y’all into Star Wars?
> 
> I (sakurazawa) was introduced to it through the Young Jedi Knights books when I was about 11, and only the first few were out. After that, I rapidly mainlined the original trilogy, followed by the special edition, which came out shortly thereafter. I became a massive addict and ended up with over 100 Expanded Universe books by the time I was in university. What’s your SW story?


	48. Porg Nest Vest

Rey lasted two more days on medicated recovery, glad the biotelemetry droid made suggestions of how and when to step down her painkillers. All she had to do was press a button, and it administered a gradual step down of doses. It had finally stopped screaming every time she moved, and Rey took advantage of this to finally sit upright in bed.

Lunch waddled from the top corner of her bed, where he’d taken to sleeping, and with a grunt and a hop, rolled onto her lap. He settled in and fluffed out his downy feathers, which smelled mysteriously of soap. RD must have been busy.

Rey turned to peer at the little nest he’d made on her bed, which appeared to be primarily composed of one large green scrap of fabric. Blood-stained fabric.

“Ugh, Spoon,” she said. The little thing must have taken the bloody thing as a trophy.

She grabbed it, preparing to throw it off the bed, and stopped.

It was crumpled, stained in blood and stuck all over with porg feathers, but once it had been a rather well-made vest. It looked almost new beneath the stains, stitching still tight and intact, color still deep and vibrant. She frowned. It wasn’t quite the right size to have been Leia’s. Maybe it belonged to someone else who’d been in the resistance?

Either way, it was a good piece, if it could be cleaned. Those pockets would be great for stashing tools.

Rey decided to make putting the vest in the sanitizer her first goal for getting out of this bunk. She carefully shifted her legs over the side, using the wall to balance. Then, when she was sure her feet were firmly planted, she stood up.

A rush of dizziness came first, but she beat it back, gritting her teeth until her blood pressure equalized and her vision cleared. Slowly, carefully, she picked her way toward the door. She’d have to hold onto the bulkhead the whole way, but she was 79% certain she could make it without passing out.

The telemetry droid floated behind, beeping soft anxieties.

Ben had made hovering uselessly around Rey a full time job until she had summarily evicted him in a fit of drug-induced irritation.  Since then he had managed to distract himself around the Falcon with various tasks, minor repairs, and a great deal of plotting Hux's bloody downfall.

He was sitting sideways in the co-pilot's chair, long legs draped over one arm as he looked over navigation data when he heard the medi-droid's worried beeping.  He reached out, sensing Rey's determination--and dizziness.  Swinging his legs down quickly, Ben hurried out of the cockpit and down the hallway just in time to catch her elbow as she stumbled and nearly fell into one of the walls.

"What are you doing up?"  He scolded her.  His eyes caught onto what she was holding and he paused, suddenly at a loss for words.

"Ah... where did you find that?"  He asked awkwardly.

She considered pulling away on principle, but Ben’s steadiness helped mute the frantic little half-spin of her vision. He also looked like he was prepared to toss her over a shoulder if she pulled away.

Ben was making a pained expression as he gazed down at the bloody vest, and Rey suddenly realized the blood must have been hers. This must have been one of the things he’d used to stanch the flow.

“Lunch was using it as a nest,” she said. “A few rounds in the sanitizer will probably clean most of the blood out. It doesn’t look it, but it’s almost new, and I’m down at least two shirts now, so...”

She trailed off. Ben was giving her a funny look, like he was struggling to understand the mentality of someone who wouldn’t just buy a new vest if they wanted one. She set her jaw, prepared to pull away and argue if she needed to.

"Almost new..."  He caught himself repeating stupidly.  He stopped himself from saying anything else, realizing that it must have been the fabric that Spoon had pushed into his hands when they had stepped back onto the Falcon.  He had been so panicked, he hadn't even noticed.  He looked at it, wrinkled and blood stained in her hands, and the irony of the whole thing was inescapable.  

He couldn't help himself.  He broke into helpless laughter.

Rey blinked at him. It was so sudden, so unexpected, that her reflexive reaction was one of confusion and concern. Ben was laughing—really, laughing—leaning on the bulkhead and bracing his head in one hand, as if the very activity might cause his brain to explode. His grin was enormous, unweildy, and inelegant. It creased his cheeks in ways she had never seen, ways that were wonderful and unexpected, and made a brash bid for dominance of his entire face. If she hadn’t been so confused by the onslaught of mirth, it would have been amazing.

“Ben...?” she said, unable to keep a tremble of amused concern from her voice. “You okay?”

Trying to catch his breath, Ben waved a hand at her, wondering distantly if he were going crazy.  Between the battle, her bleeding out in his arms, the lack of sleep, and the worrying, the sight of that dammed vest in her hands had been the last straw.  How long had it been since he had bought it now?  Eight months, ten?  He had almost forgotten about it, had assumed the porgs had shredded it into ribbons.

He shook his head, managing to re-gain some semblance of control over his emotions.  "I.. I'm fine."  He wheezed.  "It's... a long story."

Rey felt her lips curling as she looked up at him. He was still smiling, that massive grin pushing its way out, though he was clearly trying to get it in restraints. When was the last time he’d laughed like this? How long had that grin lay buried beneath anger and bitterness and pitch-black resentment? Rey couldn’t help hoping that, now it found its way to the surface, she’d see more of it.

She took his forearm, half for balance and half just to hold onto him. Over the past few days, she’d missed the easy contact they’d established, almost as much as she missed being able to get up and move around. “Sanitizer,” she said, pulling him into motion. “I don’t care what you think, I’m washing it.”

"It does have pockets."  Ben offered helpfully, supporting her as she made her stubborn way down the hall.  The laughter was fading, and he tried to battle back a strange sort of embarrassment in it's wake.  "But it's really not worth it.  Those blood stains won't come out, you know."

He reached out and snagged the vest from her, shaking it out and frowning at it.  The porgs really had treated it rather well, but it was strange to see it again.  "I can get you another one."

Rey frowned, trying to fit the statements together in a way that made sense. There was really only one explanation for why he’d known about the pockets. “You...bought this?” she ventured.

Ben sighed, handing it back.  "On the moon where I kept the Betrayal... the first time we were there."  He looked sideways at her, handing the vest back.

Rey was already grinning, her insides leaping with a squiggly sort of happiness at the thought of Ben, even then, thinking of her. She was also absurdly happy that it was this vest, and not one of those absurdly revealing Aurelian gowns, that had been the first thing he’d bought her. It made her feel...known.

She closed her fingers around the fabric, insides fizzy with a kind of quiet, bright happiness she’d never really experienced.

“Well, I’m definitely not getting rid of it now,” she said. They reached the sanitizer unit and she tossed it inside, programmed the thing to a stain-removal setting. “If that doesn’t take care of it...I guess I could just dye it black.”

“You do what you like with it, I could never find a good time to give it to you."  Ben couldn't help hovering.  "And now you need to lay down again.  You're still recovering."  He glared at her, tempted to just pick her up and carry her back to her bunk.

Rey squinted at him, still smiling. There were aspects to Ben that were so strangely, shyly adorable. “You built up giving it to me in your head, didn’t you?” she asked. “You couldn’t just leave it on the holo table like I did with your clothes. What were you afraid of? That I’d think you were nice?”

"I did actually get around to leaving it out once..."  He admitted reluctantly, realizing how ridiculous he sounded.  He tried to change the subject.

"Your comm has been ringing nonstop, by the way.  I took it out of your room so that it wouldn't wake you.”

“Ah,” she said, leaning on him a bit more. The return trip was proving harder than the trip out. Her heart was making rough, sluggish clenches in her chest, and still she felt out of breath. “I promised to contact my friends when I wasn’t too high to understand simple questions. I should probably...” she winced, and the rest of the sentence came out through her teeth. “...should probably do that.”

Sliding an arm around her waist, Ben helped her slowly back to his room and into the bunk.  "I suppose they got a report from the station?"  Settling in beside her, he reached out and brushed his fingers through her hair, smoothing it back from her face.  He hated to think what the reports had been like, confusing and incomplete.

“Yes,” she said, and even though it hurt, she drew up her knees and leaned against him. “They were really confused. Mostly because they said I’d almost died, no one could say what happened or where I’d gone, only that I’d left in stable condition. I thought you’d probably told them to forget you were there.” She pressed her head against his chest and spent a few breaths just breathing in the smell of his shirt, his skin beneath it.

“I really do need to call,” she said. “And you look...like you’ve been worrying too much about me and not enough about yourself.”

"Fine."  Ben stood, leaning down to steal a quick kiss.  He handed her the comm, trying not to think about who she would be speaking with.  He still didn't want to think about Poe Dameron.  He tightened down the flicker of jealousy, tried to keep it from slipping through their connection.  

"It's good to see you up again."  He said quietly, letting Lunch in as he left.

Rey breathed out, wishing she could exhale the tangle of tension forming in her belly. She’d been careful, not saying names. Poe and Finn were sore subjects, in different ways—the former stormtrooper who’d turned coat against the First Order and the x-wing pilot-come-resistance-leader, who also happened to have been sleeping with Rey.

Ben was battling his own nature in a lot of ways, and he was doing well. It was still difficult to balance. She’d never really realized how difficult it was, caring about people who disliked each other. It was an entirely new sort of...almost hurt, as if those people couldn’t understand the parts of her that loved the other. As if it distanced them.

Rey shook off the thoughts, encoding in Poe’s private signal. She had no idea what time it was on the new capital. She had no idea what time it was anywhere, relative to anything right now.

The buzzing of his comm stirred Poe from sleep, but he determinedly ignored it.  Council had been in session for ten hours, discussing the immediate issue of intergalactic trade routes for grain, and by the time he had finally made it back to his estate, all he had wanted in life was food, sleep, and warm arms.  

Those arms were still wound around him now, and he was dammed if he was going to move out of them for what was more than likely Finn panicking again over something baby related.  With a disgruntled moan, he buried his head deeper under his pillow and prayed for the buzzing to stop. 

The warm body wound around his extracted a hand from the covers and slapped at the offending comm, dragging it back under the covers with her. She clicked the button. “This is Senate Leader Poe Dameron’s personal armed answering service. The Senate Leader is happy you called. Targeting droids are zeroing in on your location now...”

“...Vara?” Rey said. “Is that—it’s me.” Over the comms, she heard a yelp of surprise that could have come from either Poe or the young sniper. Rey wasn’t shocked to find Poe had company. The man had a set of friends who regularly showed up in his bed, though Rey supposed she was no longer going to count herself among them. A whispered curse, and then there was the sound of fabric, as if the comm were being shoved beneath a pillow. “Poe?” she said.

"Hey, Ace!"  Poe took possession of the comm that had been stuffed against his face, not bothering to unbury himself from the soft cushions.  He felt Vara shift back into place beside him, getting a mouthful of her hair as she tucked her head against his so that she could hear as well.

"You sound a bit more like yourself.  That's good."

“I’m going insane from having to stay still so much,” she said. “But I’m no longer certain the walls are breathing. That was a fun five minutes.” She patted her lap as Lunch waddled over, and the porg happily sprang onto the bed with a flap of its tiny wings and settled its massive, warm body over her knees. Rey scratched its head, tugging softly on its feathers the way it had taken to grooming her.

"I'm sure.  Think you can bring some of those drugs back for Finn?  I need him to calm the fuck down."  Poe had difficulty picturing Rey being still long enough to heal properly, she was always too full of energy and life.  "Parent life is making him a nervous wreck."

Rey stiffened. “They had the baby?” She said. “Stars, they had the baby. Of course he’s going mad about everything. I can picture it.”

And she could. She could see the permanent expression of fear he was probably wearing, hear the panic in his voice with every rapid fire question. Mostly, though, she wanted to imagine him smiling, holding a tiny child in his arms, looking down at it.

“He’ll be a great father once he calms down,” she said. “I don’t suppose you took any holos?”

"I might have a few."  Poe laughed.  "Rose won't stop sending them to me, I swear they all look the same.  But she's just as shit at this parenting thing as he is, luckily a couple of my kids are really good with babies, I lend them out occasionally."  He finally pulled the pillow off of his head, it was getting somewhat suffocating.  He shoved it into Vara's face, making her squawk ungracefully.

“Your kids?” Rey said. “I haven’t been away that long, Poe.” Her mind tumbled backwards several weeks, replaying conversations about his empty estate driving him crazy, her suggestion that he open it up to some of the refugee kids. “Did you actually...” She couldn’t finish. Her heart felt like it was growing.

Next to Poe, Vara grunted and tossed aside the pillow, then rolled herself gracelessly on top of him and clambered off the bed, naked but for the unbraided wreck of black hair down her back. She scooped up Poe’s discarded uniform shirt and slid into it. Meeting his eyes, she nodded her head toward the door. “Back in fifteen,” she said. “Talk your classifieds.”

"I thought about your idea.  It's a good one, opening up the estate to at least a few kids displaced by the war.  And yes... I brought your kids here."  He could practically hear her beaming.  "I'm teaching a few of them how to fly, some others are natural mechanics...it's a great distraction from senate meetings."  Flipping over onto his stomach, he scrubbed a hand through his hair, knowing she wasn't going to like what he said next nearly as well.

"Rey, you need to come back."

In Rey’s mind, Ari’li sat in Poe’s lap, a too-large helmet rattling on her head, her red eyes alight with interest as the craft responded to her control. He’d enjoy her quick mind. She’d probably enjoy target practice. It all fizzled at his words.

She drew in a deep breath. She’d known this part of the conversation would come. It was one reason she hadn’t wanted Ben around—she couldn’t worry about his reactions when her own were still so uncertain. But there was one thing she knew: after everything that had just happened, they needed her. They needed to see her, to reassure themselves she was alright.

And part of her did want to go back to them, at least for a little while. She’d never really thought of any place as home, but over the years, these people had become part of it. Her heart felt a little emptier, for missing them.

“I know,” she said. “I will. I need to...” How to put it. “I can’t ask him to come with me. It’s selfish. I know it is, but I can’t watch him sentenced to death. No more than he could watch me. If I have to spin it for the rest of the senate, I’ll say he’s worth more as a living asset, hunting down the remnants of the First Order than he is as a dead war criminal. But I can’t ask him to come with me.”

Poe closed his eyes, hating the position he was in.  Despite how much he distrusted Ben Solo, years of anger and blood between them, he knew that the man had grown to mean something to Rey.  He couldn't fathom having that much forgiveness, despite the strange--and frankly unnerving--connection between them.  He knew he would never be able to look at Kylo Ren without seeing the faces of the dead.  Han, Leia, Luke, the thousands that had died during the war, many of whom he had known and served with.  He would always feel the pain of the Force digging through his mind.  He would always see the sadness in Leia's eyes.

"He has to answer, Rey.  You know that.  But I can promise you that everything he's done since the war ended will be fairly considered.  And your voice carries weight here, you may not realize how much."

“I know.” Rey swallowed, taking in a shaky breath. Anakin had told her to trust her friends. What did that mean? They had more reason to hate Ben than anyone. Rose had lost her sister. Finn had lost an entire lifetime. Poe had been tortured by Ben himself. They’d fought to stop him and everything he represented. Sometimes, she wondered if they felt betrayed by her insistence on protecting Ben.

But she couldn’t protect him forever. His journey depended upon his ability to hold himself up to the light and not turn away. Past a certain point, she had to let him stand on his own.

“I’ll ask him to come,” she said. “But I won’t make him.”

Poe released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.  "That's enough for now."  He hated knowing that someday he wouldn't be able to offer her that option any longer.  "I miss you, Ace."

“I miss you too,” she said, feeling his sadness as if he were in the room with her. It wasn’t any easy to know that, someday, bringing Ben in might have to become an order. Poe didn’t want to force her to choose between her family and Ben, but at some point, he wasn’t going to be able to stall the call for justice.

Justice. An image flashed into her head, of slick ginger hair and a cold, smarmy smile. “Oh god, I almost forgot!” She said. “Hux—he’s alive. He wasn’t killed on Karrakesh. We saw him when we nabbed the Chamberlain on Aurelia!”

"He's what?" Poe sat up, temper flaring.  "That snarky little bastard!  Why haven't we come across him before?  Keep me updated if you find out more."  Poe glared angrily at the door, as though it could be blamed for aiding Hux's escape.  

“And we think he knows Ben’s hunting them he was all ready for us at that base with...Force dampening lizards. Or something.” She wrinkled her forehead. “I have no idea, but Ben has heard of them. I’ve been looking through my books.”

“Send me a full report."  Poe ordered, finding it was almost exciting to have real work to do again.  Something more than trade routes and the taxation of imported capacitors.  "When can we expect you back?"

“I don’t even know what system we’re in,” she said. “I’ll check the nav and let you know. And I’ll work on a report about Hux and the...Force lizards.”

Maybe Ben would help with that. Rey had never been excellent at reports. In fact, Poe had often told her she was awful at them.

"Alright.  And Ace, be careful out there."  Poe wished that he could see her, make sure that she was okay with his own eyes.  It seemed like so long since she had really been home, and while it was good to hear her voice it was nowhere near enough.  "We're all thinking about you."

“You too,” she said. “Don’t forget to kiss the baby for me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Behind the Scenes: Poe goes to Finn and Rose’s room on his estate (where they have moved in because they can’t adult and be parents at the same time). He knocks on the door, and when Finn answers, he grabs him and kisses him.
> 
> Finn: !!!!  
> Poe: Rey told me to kiss the baby.  
> Rose: XD  
> Baby: ?  
> Poe: Night~!


	49. One Porg who Wants to Sleep

Brows drawn together in irritation, Ben frowned at the report that Rey had asked him to help her write.  She had given him a draft that she had produced, and despite his own dislike for red tape and paperwork, he had to admit that she was correct.  She was horrible at this.  Leaning back into the lounge couch, Ben sighed.  How the hell had he gotten here, writing up mission information for the fucking Alliance?  He knew exactly who would be reading it, and he was spitefully tempted to add his own commentary.  But that would get back to Rey, probably scathingly, and she would be less than pleased with him.  

He looked up as she came into the lounge, hair damp from the refresher.  She was finally able to move around a bit on her own without almost collapsing, though she still looked pale and exhausted from the effort.  It would take weeks--if not months-- before her body had built back up enough of the blood she had lost for her usual bright energy to return.  He scooted over and shoved Lunch off of the couch, making room for her.  The fat porg glared up at him and wondered off, no doubt to inform Spoon to take revenge in his stead.  Despite only having the two of them on board, keeping up with them still kept RD busy and distracted.

“You’re making a face,” Rey said, out of breath and wobbly with the heat of the shower. She collapsed onto the bench beside him, heart thundering in her ears. “Is it that terrible? I said what happened.”

"It's terrible."  Ben said flatly.  "And I hate writing reports, I always made other people write them."  He glared at her.  "You're lucky I like you."

Pushing the datapad away, Ben leaned back with a sigh.  "This is why it's more fun being the leader, not a follower.  You get reports, not the other way around."

Rey scooted sideways, bumping into his side. “If my reports annoy you, I’ll just have to be the leader,” she said. “You can give me reports and I’ll tell you what to do.”

Ben paused, glancing over at her with an arched eyebrow.  Sometimes Rey was too innocent for her own good, it was entirely too easy to take the things she said in ways she most likely did not intend.  "You will, will you?"

Rey didn’t think about how her words could have sounded until Ben looked at her like that. He wasn’t like Poe, who was prepared to take almost any phrase as a flirtation, and so it was strange to see him with that sort of half-amused sparkle in his eyes. A blush crept up her neck as she realized exactly what that had sounded like. She stopped a protest from escaping. She wasn’t entirely certain she wanted to take back the statement either way.

Instead, she just let herself give an awkward laugh and let her hand drift to Ben’s thigh. “Yes,” she said. “I’m not convinced you’ll follow them, but I’ll try to be sufficiently intimidating.”

Ben snorted.  "If intimidating is your goal, you have a lot to learn.  And following any orders is not my strength."   He growled at her threateningly, stalking her as he leaned closer, aiming for her neck.

Rey heard herself give a half-squealed laugh. “See, it’s working already!” she said. “It’s—ngh.” There was no more chance for words, once Ben’s teeth found her neck. He attacked, arms pinning hers as he wound her up. Rey let herself enjoy the feeling of his teeth, the heat of his mouth and gentle sweep of his tongue on her skin. She tossed one leg over his thigh, then the other, and he seemed perfectly willing to haul her into his lap and hold her there.

Ben tried to be careful of the still healing wound in her side, simply glad that he could hold her again.  He teased his teeth up the outside of her neck, enjoying how she squirmed as he did so.  He ended with a soft kiss just behind her ear, nuzzling into her hair.  He wanted so much more...  to feel her skin under his hands, her body pressed close against his own.  He sighed regretfully, hands sliding around her waist under the fabric of her shirt.  "Could you heal faster, please?"  He complained.

Dizzy with his touch, Rey wobbled into his shoulder and breathed the words automatically. “I’m fine...” She found one of his hands and guided it up beneath her shirt, over her breast, where it fit warm and large. She wanted him. She missed the feel of his skin, the strength of his hands, and the way his body moved over her, inside her. She wanted to curl against him and sink into him. “Let’s...go to bed.”

"You're not fine."  Ben disagreed, though he wasn't exactly ready to pull away.  He traced the curve of her small breast with his fingers, watching her flush as he did so.  Heat pooled low in his belly and his resolve weakened.  Restraint wasn't high on his list of strengths.  

With a soft growl he pulled his hands away, lifting her into his arms and standing.  "You're not allowed to let me hurt you."  He said firmly, glaring at her as though this were her fault.

Rey pressed her face into his neck. “I’ll make sure you’re careful,” she said, kissing the skin beneath his jaw. “I’ve just missed you.”

It didn’t take him more than a few strides to round the bulkhead and push open the door. Perched on the bed, Lunch cracked one eye, saw them, and emitted a grumbly-sounding trill before stumping off the bed and waddling past them, out the door.

“Poor thing just wants to sleep,” Rey said. Ben set her down beside the bed, and Rey looped an arm around his waist for balance as she pushed at her boots. “I don’t know why I put these on,” she said.

"Weight for balance."  He answered.  "And habit."  Pushing her down so she was sitting on the edge of the bed he knelt to help her with her boots, tossing them aside before pulling off his own.  

Standing again he leaned over her, resting his forehead against hers.  "I missed you too."  He said softly, voice rough.  It still haunted him, her blood staining his clothes, how light she had been in his arms. 

Rey tilted her head back, bringing her lips to his. Her hands drifted out, catching his shirt and dragging it up. Once, she might have felt shy about being so clear with what she wanted, fearing judgement or rejection. She didn’t fear either of those things anymore. She never really had, with Ben. He’d always been honest about wanting her, and she could feel his desire for her, mingled with the worry and the fear.

It seemed important to get him out of his clothes as quickly as possible. As he was ducking out of his shirt, Rey reached for his belt, tugging him a step closer. Her grin turned into a wince, though, as the motion strained her ribs. That had been a bit stupid—her playfulness would need to take a back seat to her injury. She unclasped the belt, leaning forward to kiss the smooth expanse of Ben’s belly as she worked open the fasteners on his trousers.

Ben was torn between the desire that tightened in his groin as her lips traced his skin and worry as she tried to hide the twinge of pain.  He could feel it flicker through their bond, quickly suppressed.  Frowning, he caught her hands, stilling them and pulling away.  

"Rey, we can't."  He hated having to say it, every nerve frustrated with how much he wanted her.  He played through all his options, and couldn't come up with any scenario where they could get the satisfaction they desired without hurting her further.

With a frustrated groan, Ben pulled the blankets out from around her and pushed her back, making space to slide into the narrow bunk alongside her and pull her into his arms.  Her flickers of annoyance were clear as he ran his fingers through her hair, still slightly damp at the roots.  "I won't let you hurt yourself."

“All the wonders of modern medicine,” she said. “You’d think a week of bacta patches would help more than this.” She pressed her face grumpily into his shoulder. After a moment’s pause, she bit him. Not hard, just enough to demonstrate her irritation. Reaching down, she slapped at his hip until he moved his leg up and let her pull his long thigh over her hip. If she couldn’t have him one way, she could at least take advantage of other parts of his athleticism. He was long-limbed and delightfully flexible, something she hadn’t thought would go along with such dense muscle. Then again, she’d seen him stretch before training. It shouldn’t have been too surprising.

His skin warm under her hands, Rey contented herself with tracing every inch of him, fingers mapping down and up his belly, his sides, his arms. All of him, hers.

"You're not making it easy for me to remain reasonable."  Ben growled, nipping at her jaw.  He let her hands wonder for a few minutes before pinning them between them and glaring at her.  "Do I have to sedate you?"  He threatened.

“Maybe,” she said. “But this part doesn’t hurt. And you don’t need *me* to help you out, do you?” She nosed against his cheek, feeling a little daring and surprised at herself. “I’m happy just to touch you and watch.”

Ben's breath hitched in his lungs, her words completely unexpected.  "I think you underestimate the effect you have on me."  He replied in a low voice, tensing against her.  "It would be... difficult to restrain myself."  He met her eyes, reading equally frustrated desire there.  

"Fuck, Rey.  Do you think you please not almost get killed again in the future?  I'm not sure I could handle keeping my hands off of you for this long again."

“Still not quite understanding why that means I have to keep my hands off you,” she said. “Why do you choose right *now* to do the nice thing?” It was almost funny. It would have been funnier had she been less frustrated. She frowned, tucking her head against his chin, she wrestled a hand away from his and slid it around his waist, fingers trickling into the hollow of his spine. “Go on. Sedate me.”

“Am I going to be able to?"  Ben asked darkly, kissing her hair.  "At least I can hold you again... for too long I couldn't even do that."

She nodded, still irritated with her own lack of fortitude, and a bit at Ben for choosing the worst possible timing to become a good person. She snuggled in against him. “Hold me, then,” she said. Tomorrow, she would have to speak with him about going back to the Alliance base. Right now, she just wanted to be with him, and drink in his presence.

For a long time they lay there, feeling each other breathing.  Ben let his mind drift back along the time that they had spent together, to the first time he had dragged her into his arms in the gunwell of the Falcon.  He had clung to her as the tattered fragments of dreams cleared from his mind, and he had become aware of the warmth of her body against his own.  It seemed so distant, days filled with anger and with the need to fight, to prove himself.  They had come so far.

Eventually he felt her drift into sleep, her arms relaxing around him, her breath growing steady against his chest.  He let his senses brush along the edges of her mind.  She felt safe in his arms, and the knowledge warmed him.  He hid a small smile in her hair as he let himself drift away as well.


	50. 2 Porgs go into Hiding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello ladies, gentlemen, and porgs! We are pleased to announce that we have begun posting snippets of scenes and bits to our Broken Pieces-verse side collection, 'Rebel Antics and Porg Tales'! We hope you check it out and enjoy!
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/13461717/chapters/30859995

Ben came out of sleep slowly, feeling Rey shifting against him.  The arm beneath her was numb, and small pains in his legs protested the cramped sleeping arrangement.  He didn't want to open his eyes, didn't want to stir and disturb her.

There was something heavy snoring against Rey’s spine. It took her a few groggy moments to realize it was Lunch, curling up in the only space left in the bunk—the small of her back. She grunted, extracting an arm from around Ben to prod at the sleeping porg, and got a spoon to the back of her hand.  
  
“Ow!” she yelped, and felt Ben startle. He’d been awake, clearly. “Ngh, tell your porg not to hit me. I’m injured,” she muttered. She didn’t care that, only a few hours before, she’d been trying to divest herself of the injured title. It was useful right now, and she wasn’t feeling terribly reasonable.

Irritated by the rude disturbance, Ben reached behind her and braved the spoon that rapped across his knuckles to shove both porgs rudely off of the bed.  He cracked his eyes open, yawning as he nosed into the nest of Rey's hair.  "Good morning to you too."  He mumbled.

She moved her hand up, clumsily catching his cheek so she could turn her head and kiss him, first just a quick press of lips. But she knew she’d have to speak with him about going back today—she couldn’t put it off any more. Well, she could put it off for a few more minutes, long enough to get a proper kissing session out of it. Rey ran her thumb along his cheek, curled her fingers behind his ear, down his neck, and pulled him in for something longer.  
  
The frantic energy of the night before was muted now, and though it still would have been nice to feel him naked against her, she was content for now with warm tongue sliding against hers, and dense curls in her hands.

Ben was content to kiss her, feeling her lips soft and parted under his.  Time expanded as he lost himself in a moment that was made up of her hands in his hair, her tongue against his, the warmth of their bodies filling up the space around them.

When the kiss finally broke Ben opened his eyes again slowly, memorizing her face.  "I could get used to waking up like that."  He said softly.

The comment brought her out of her kiss-induced stupor. Fingers trickling over his jaw, Rey looked into Ben’s eyes, feeling the increasing pressure of what she had to say pushing up inside her. Unbidden, tears welled in her eyes. She closed them, willing the tears to go away, but it was impossible for Ben not to have noticed.  
  
She didn’t want to leave him behind. She didn’t want to have to choose between the two families she had worked so hard to build. She didn’t want them to destroy each other. The whole situation felt impossible.

"Rey?"  Ben's brows drew together and he lifted a hand to her face, thumb brushing over her cheek.  "What's wrong?"  He reached out to her with the Force, feeling a strange pain rising in her mind.  His first instinct was to check her wound, but it wasn't physical.  Somehow it was... deeper.  

"Whatever it is, I'm here."

She blinked, displacing tears. One trickled over Ben’s thumb and was swept away. “I have to go back,” she said, forcing out the words. “I have to...report in. But I don’t want to leave you and...” a sob shuddered its way from her “...and eventually, they’ll have to order me to bring you in. Poe...he’s giving me as much time as he can. Right now, this time, it wasn’t an order. But someday the senate will force his hand and I’ll have to choose and—“ she let out a sob that was half growl of frustration, and whipped her hands up to scrub away the tears.

Ben went still, thoughts racing as her words slowly sank in.  Emotions tangled up in him one after another.  Anger at them for putting her in this position, for thinking he owed them anything.  Fear at the thought of losing her again.  White-hot jealousy.  She would be near Dameron again, and he knew the damnable man saw himself as irresistibly charming.  He tightened his arm around her as though he could protect her from having to go.

He opened his mouth to respond scathingly--and paused.  Leia's eyes flashed through his mind, the almost-touch of her hands as she had held his face and whispered farewell.  Things were changing... had changed.  Maybe it was time to stop running.

"Are you asking me to come with you?"  He said finally, meeting her eyes searchingly.

She searched right back, her face twisted in indecision. “I don’t know,” she said. “I’m so afraid that...” She cut herself off, and gathered her thoughts. “If you come with me, there will be a trial. Everything you’ve done since the fall of the First Order will be taken into account, but...” She squeezed her eyes shut. “The risk is too much. I can’t ask you to come with me, not knowing what the outcome will be.”

"I'm coming with you."  He said quietly, feeling the decision settle like a weight in his stomach.  He didn't know what it would bring, but he knew that trying to hide him away forever would eventually tear her in two.  Despite the time he had spent trying to win her over from the Light, he loved her most when she was smiling, laughing, bursting with life.  Even with him, being alone out here among the stars would not be enough for her forever.  Again he struggled with jealousy, not just of the lover who had shared her bed, but also of the friends that held part of her heart.  Jealousy, and somewhere deep below that, envy.

She felt the words hit her, and even as their meaning rippled out, Ben’s emotions collided with each other in her senses. Fear and determination, jealousy, protectiveness, helplessness... She took his face in her hands, fingers brushing back his hair so she could look him in the eyes, saying the only thing she could to blunt the sharp edge of that envy. “I love you, Ben Solo.” She felt another tear trickle loose, but didn’t bother to blink it away. “I love you.”

He closed his eyes, her words washing over him.  Not so very long ago he would not have been able to hear them, much less believe them without searching for the lie.  He had always loved her, or so he had thought.  But he was learning that love and possession were subtly different things.  He kissed away her tears, tasting salt on his lips, pushing his answer back to her through the Force.  The words were still too much for him to say.

It was enough. Rey tilted up her chin and caught his mouth again, feeling how unsteadily both of them were treading this unbroken ground. As Anakin had said, she would need to believe in Ben’s light, and trust her friends. For now, it was all she could do.  
  
****  
  
Though the decision was made, the journey was no simpler. She and Ben were quiet, and she’d taken to avoiding all mention of her friends, lest it send him into a spiral of anxiety, bitterness, anger, worry, and back around again. She grew stronger, slowly, but though she spent every night stretched out alongside Ben, neither of them pushed for much. The weight of uncertainty was simply too heavy for either of them to bear.  
  
Her vest never did come quite clean of all the blood, but she folded it neatly and packed it away among her things all the same. She would dye it when she got the chance. There were constant updates from Finn and Rose, most of which consisted of pictures of their adorable daughter with one or both of them happy, exhausted, and mildly surprised. The rest were check-ins from Poe or Chewie or one of her other friends on base.

Ben spent most of the journey lost in thought, mood darkening the closer they drew to the Alliance home world.  Ben distantly remembered stories that his parents had told of their own time on the moon of Yavin IV, he supposed it made some sort of sense that the Alliance had chosen it to resurrect the spirit of the Republic. 

The scars of war were stronger as they moved inward from the outer rim, reminders of his past.  Even as he held Rey in his arms at night, his thoughts chased after each other, playing over scenarios in his mind.  He had no idea what sort of reception waited for them, but he doubted it would go well.  He had done too much.

It was hard to find the right words to say to Rey, though he determinedly kept the connection between them open, refusing to retreat no matter how he wanted to.  It would be so easy to rebuild the walls that had kept him safe from hurt for so many years, but that was behind him now. 

He was pacing the Falcon's lounge, emotions high and nerves on edge when the navigation computer pinged, dropping them out of hyperspace.

Rey felt jittery at the helm, keying in coordinates and peering through the cloud cover as they burned into the atmosphere. Almost at once, an electronic hail picked up over the comms. Rey clicked over to answer.  
  
“YT-1300 Freigher, this is Capitol Command, please identify, over.”  
  
“Capitol Command,” Rey said. “This is the Rey, Captain of the Millennium Falcon, requesting clearance to land in private sector 0-0-1, over.”  
  
“Copy that, Falcon, you’re clear to land.” There was a brief pause. “Welcome home.”

As he felt the ships thrusters engage to bring them down on the landing pad, Ben scooped his lightsaber up and slipped it to his belt automatically.  He was halfway to the cargo bay to wait for Rey when he thought about the action, pausing in the hall.  Cursing softly, he unclipped it, looking down at the heavy hilt in his hand.  It meant many things to him, had never failed him.  But this was not the time or the place.  Walking back to the lounge he set it down on bunk, looking down at it for a long moment.  If things went badly...  Rey would find it.  

Turning away, he locked down his roiling emotions, his anger.  What mattered now was not his pride, it was keeping her close to him, and there was only one way to do that.  To convince them that Kylo Ren was gone... whether or not it was true.

Rey met him at the cargo hatch. She looked up at him for a long moment, but everything that needed to be said already had. She felt sick, but she forced it down. She had to be strong for Ben. And the others would be no less afraid of him. Rey seized his hand, brought his knuckles up to hers, and kissed them. Bare knuckles, not gloved. He was in blue. Dark gray trousers. Black boots. She almost told him to tie his hair back, but there were some indignities that he shouldn’t have to suffer just yet.  
  
She tipped up on her toes and kissed his cheek, then pulled away. With a nod, she hit the access button, and watched the gangplank lower. Before it had hit the ground, she started down, almost afraid to see who would be waiting.

Poe and Finn stood a few paces away from the bottom of the ramp, an armed squad spread out in a half-circle behind them.  As Ben came into view the soldiers visibly tensed, though they had clearly been instructed not to draw their weapons unless necessary.

Ben stayed at Rey's side, shoulders set and tension rippling off of him.  He tried to keep his hands relaxed, refusing to give them the satisfaction of showing his emotion.  He could feel them watching him, and the Force carried him whispers from the surface of their minds.  Hate, anger, disgust... fear.

Poe Dameron stepped forward, greeting Rey with a quick hug, though his gaze met Ben's and his eyes narrowed.  Moving past her shoulder the shorter man walked right up to him, and for a long moment they locked eyes, neither willing to back down or break. 

Ben had only a moment of warning in the flash of familiar anger before the ex-pilot lashed out, fist connecting solidly with Ben's jaw.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So its time for a poll! 
> 
> Will Poe Dameron die painfully in the next chapter?
> 
> It's kinda his M.O. though, you gotta admit. Do stupid thing first, think about consequences later....


	51. Still 2 Porgs (1329 Planetwide)

Ben staggered back a step, hot fury flashing through him like a solar flare.  He gritted his teeth, hands clenching at his sides as he struggled to fight back every instinct that screamed at him to take ahold of the Force and crush his enemy for once and for all.  Through force of will he held it at bay, straightening to meet Poe's eyes again, silently fuming.

Rey grabbed Poe’s jacket a second too late. She felt Ben’s fury flare up through the Force and threaten to cascade through. The guards’ hands were on their guns and she prepared to fling herself between them.  
  
But Ben was winding control around himself, tamping down the fury and indignity and straightening back up with something like hot coals in his eyes. Rey cringed.  
  
It was fair. Of course it was fair. Ben had tortured Poe, and killed so many people he loved. Punching him was probably the least punishment he deserved. It had still been a stupid thing to do to someone still struggling to maintain control.  
  
“You nerfherder,” she said to Poe, shoving herself between the two men. “If you wanted to test his control, well, there it is!”  
  
She hid a wince. Grabbing Poe’s jacket had not been the best of plans for her healing side. Behind them, Finn hovered with a dark expression, knees bent as if he were prepared to fling himself on them or grab Poe and run.

"It wasn't a test."  Poe said angrily, still glaring at Ben darkly.  "It was just long overdue."  He pulled away, straightening his jacket and looking down at her.  "I did what I could.  He'll be escorted to a home near the senate and held there until we can decide how to handle him.”

He looked back up at Ben, voice rough with emotion.  "Don't try anything.  Even for you, we have enough firepower to take you down."

Ben stared back at him challengingly, still struggling with his temper.  This man had thwarted him at every turn, had always slipped away... had touched Rey.  Slowly he took a deep breath, forcing his fists to unclench.  "Understood."  He said coldly.

Rey held her breath past the frustration, putting firm hands on Poe’s shoulders and walking him back a step or two. Giving him a warning look, she pushed at his chest again. “Don’t make this harder,” she said. Then she turned to Finn, accepted a quick, careful hug, and walked back to Ben.  
  
“We’re going with them,” she said, nodding to the group of soldiers approaching.

Ben nodded and raking his gaze over both Poe and Finn, took her hand in his.  "I did agree to this."  He said quietly, steel in his voice.

She squeezed his hand, and gave her friends a look that begged for some small understanding. She felt suddenly weightless, and terrified. Felt panic creeping up her throat as she looked at them, wondering if they’d turn their backs. If they’d leave her.  
  
And what if she lost Ben, too? What if, after everything, she ended up alone again?  
  
A throb went through her, and a swoop of lightheaded-ness. Suddenly, her heart was pounding in her throat. Everything around her eyes wanted to go dark. Finn. Poe. Her senses reached out to them, gripping on hard, and she wasn’t sure what she was doing but she was pulling them, anchoring them to her like a drowning person desperate for a lifeline. Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me. Please. Please.

Ben felt her drowning, the fear of being abandoned sweeping through her.  It was always there, beneath the surface, it had been since the first time he had looked into her mind.  He supported her as she swayed, turning her towards him and cupping her face in his hands, forcing her to look up at him.  "Rey."  He said quietly, ignoring the others, letting go of his anger and reaching out to her with strength, with everything he felt for her.  

"I'm here, Rey.  And I'm not going anywhere."

 _And neither are they._   He pressed through the bond, unwilling to give them the satisfaction of hearing him say it.   _Reach out and feel them, Rey.  They love you.  That's one of the reasons they're angry._

Poe started towards her, wanting to drag her from Ben's arms and into his own.  But he couldn't.  He stopped, watching the gentleness in the large hands that held her, and hating them.  Mostly he hated the part of himself that had to admit that she was safe there. 

Her tears spilled over Ben’s hands. She’d always cried easily, and hated it. Times like this, she wished she could be strong and panic with some sort of dignity, like Leia always had. Instead she trembled, supporting herself on Ben’s wrists, leaning on the strength he offered both physically and through the Force.  
  
As her panic calmed, she reached out again, brushing her friends’ minds with hers and feeling their worry, their conflict. And, she was surprised to find, a thread of relief from Poe. Relief and...was it resignation? She turned from Ben’s hands with a nod, leaning on his arm as the panic faded and the anemia took hold, flushing her strength. She forced herself to look at Poe and Finn, certain there was a pitiful kind of pleading in her eyes. She knew what they felt, but it was hard to read it on their faces.

Ben slid an arm around her waist, supporting her as he felt her tremble against him. He looked at the soldiers that still shifted nervously, weapons half raised.  

"We'll go where you lead."  He said firmly.

"You can come and go freely of course, Rey."  Poe said quietly, glancing at Finn and still seeing the fear there that the younger man tried to hide.  "I'll make sure that anything you need from the Falcon is brought to you as well."

She took in a sharp breath, relief washing through her, and nodded. “Thank you,” she said.  
  
The soldiers motioned them on, and Rey cast one look back at her friends, who watched her with twin expressions of worry. She leaned against Ben.  
  
By the time they got to the senate-owned building, Rey was using the Force to keep upright. Her heart was pounding, and the glimpses of her reflection she caught in glass windows looked pale as milk.

The house was large by normal standards, metal framed and austere but not lacking in comforts.  As the captain of the unit pressed his hand to the locking panel on the main door and it slid open, Ben could see that it was well furnished.  By far the least uncomfortable prison he had ever seen.  

And yet prison it was.  The slats across the wide windows were made of the same fine durasteel as the door, and despite the view across manicured gardens, Ben doubted that any door would open into them. 

"Your bio-print will open the doors, Ma'am."  The captain explained stiffly, looking uncomfortable.  "But the system will know if.. ah...  if you try to leave accompanied."

Rey nodded, thanked the captain, and waited until he left to collapse on the settee. She curled on her side, miserably exhausted by the emotional turmoil and the long walk. She had no doubt Finn and Poe had had some sort of transport waiting, prepared to take her to a medical center for a full check, no doubt. It probably wasn’t a bad idea. Her biotelemetry droid had suggested a ferrous blood transfusion, whatever that meant.  
  
She wanted to talk to Ben, but all she had the strength to do was reach out with the Force and tug at him.

He had barely left her side, hovering restlessly as the Captain cast furtive glances in his direction.  Now kneeling at her side, he took her hands in his and tried to put aside his own emotions.  "How are you holding up."  He asked quietly, though he could feel the answer.  There was time to pace his cage later, when Rey could deal with his frustration.

“I need to sleep,” she said. “And I need you to hold me. This was all a lot harder than I thought, and I can’t imagine how hard it is for you. I wanted to be here to support you but...it’s sort of the other way around right now. I’m sorry, Ben.”

He shook his head, hair falling into his eyes.  "Don't apologize."  He picked her up, tucking her against his chest as he lifted her easily.  "Any idea where a damn bed is in this place?"

 “Try the jungle,” she suggested. “Or that way, I don’t know.” She curled against him, hating how weak she felt right now. How helpless she was to control anything.  
  
Ben found the bedroom, which was clearly intended for a single sleeper. Still, the bed was a good deal wider than a bunk, and looked like it might even be long enough to accommodate Ben’s full height. He lowered her onto the duvet, which was thick and gray, with a darker gray knitted blanket tucked at the foot.  
  
Rey extended a foot. “Shoes?”

Ben unlaced her boots and pulled them off, tossing them aside before sliding out of his own.  He sat on the edge of the bed, reaching down and running a hand through her hair, fingers combing the strands back from her face.

"I don't think your friends like me very much."  He said with a tired sigh.  "But...  I'm alright, Rey.  Don't worry about me."

“I always worry about you,” she said. “Since the day I met you.” She drew her feet up on the bed, pulled off her socks, and tossed her legs across his knee, leaning into him. This had become one of her more comfortable ways to sit, her shoulders fitting against his chest, head tucked against his neck. The galaxy seemed a little smaller, and she felt the hope threading through it, just as her fingers twined with his larger ones. “I love you, Ben. I’m going to save you. I don’t care what it takes.”

Tugging her more completely into his lap, Ben wrapped his arms around her, engulfing her.  "I believe you."  He said quietly, hoping it was true.  "Or I wouldn't be here."

She sat that way a long time, folded in his lap, her eyes drawing closed as the exhaustion dragged her down. His heart thudded warm and steady against her cheek, and when she twisted to kiss him, it was slow, and warm, and for the first time in a while, it didn’t hurt.


	52. 13 Secret Porgs

Ben woke slowly, jaw aching, aware of a disconcerting silence.  It took him a moment to realize that he was still listening for the hum of ships' engines where there were none to be heard.  The bed beside him was empty, and he ran a hand through sleep tangled hair, slowly unwinding himself from the blankets.  He supposed that Rey had probably gone out to see her friends, though it was strangely irritating that she hadn't woken him to let him know.

Standing he stretched, pulling his shirt off over his head and deciding that the first order of the day was to find a shower in his luxurious prison.  Heading out into the hallway he paused as he heard voices echoing from some room down the corridor.  Rey and...  a woman's voice he didn't know. 

Frowning, he followed the sound of voices.

Rey was inelegantly clasping a fat baby, whose chubby, soft arm was flailing out of the loose swaddling clothes. Rose was beaming, animatedly waving around a multitool as she took apart the food synthesizer, which had broken, right on cue, just before breakfast.  
  
“...and Finn was just absolutely useless,” she said. “Poe had to practically carry him home. He cried more than the baby. It was really sweet. Hydrospanner?”  
  
Rey juggled the baby to one arm and handed the tool down to Rose. She kept searching the baby’s face, noticing new things. Finn’s nose and brow, the shape of Rose’s eyes. The fat cheeks ubiquitous to all human babies. The child’s skin was a gorgeous golden brown, and so impossibly soft it didn’t feel real.  
  
She felt Ben a moment before he appeared, his curls in shambles, big body filling in the doorway. Rey held her breath as Rose looked up, her eyes widening at the sight of him. She scanned him head to toe, then looked at Rey, then back at Ben.  
  
“You’re really tall,” she said. “I thought it was the boots.”

He blinked at her, glancing at Rey and the baby in confusion.  "I...  who are you?"  He hadn't exactly expected anyone that Rey knew to just... drop by.  Especially with a child.  Caught off guard, he stood in the doorway helplessly, feeling oddly trapped and off balance.

Rey stared at his shocked face, then at Rose, crouching on the floor beside the half-dismantled synthesizer, her eyes wide with shock as she took in the full force of Ben Solo, half naked and barefoot, his hair still mussed from sleep. Rose blinked. She turned her head slowly toward Rey, then lifted her eyebrows.  
  
“Okay,” she said quietly. “I kind of get it now.”  
  
Rey barked out a laugh, which turned into a harder laugh, which hurt. She winced and laughed, leaning back into the countertop and clinging to the now-crying baby as she struggled not to drop it.

"Does that thing have an off switch?"  Ben complained, brows drawing together in annoyance as the baby wailed loudly.  He shifted uncomfortably, moving into the kitchen and leaning back against one counter, crossing his arms.  "I still don't know who you are."  He said, voice cool as he regained his composure.

He glared at Rey.  "And stop that.  You'll hurt yourself." 

Rose stood up, dusted herself off. “I’m Rose Tico,” she said. Her eyes narrowed, and she stepped up to him, brandishing her hydrospanner. “And I’m not afraid of you.”  
  
Rey got her composure back together and held the baby back out toward Rose. “Take her, I—I think I need to sit,” she said around another wincing laugh. Rose looked at the baby a moment, then looked at Rey, then gave Ben another head to toe scan. “No, I think we need to talk, actually.” She snatched the baby and shoved it into Ben’s unsuspecting arms.

“This probably makes me a terrible mother, handing my baby to the former Supreme Leader of the First Order. But for some reason, I think you’ll behave.”  
  
Then she proceeded to drag Rey into the living room, where she wheeled on her.  
  
“WHAT?” Rose hissed.  
  
Rey leaned in, confused. “What, what?”  
  
“You two!” Rose said. “You’re—oh my god. You’re sleeping with him.”  
  
Rey closed her eyes, feeling at once embarrassed and amused. “Well, not since I got shot. Which has been annoying, because it only started about...a week before I got shot, so...”  
  
“WHAT.”  
  
“You’re surprised that I am, but you’re also surprised it didn’t happen sooner?” Rey said.  
  
Rose shook her head, mouth agape. “Well...I mean...If I were inclined at all to sleep with him, I think it would have happened pretty fast. You see him, right? I mean, his face is a little weird, but-“  
  
“His face is not weird.”  
  
“It’s totally weird. But his—“ and Rose waved her hand at her torso “And I assume his—“ she waved her hand lower “—everything else...I mean. Put that on a recruitment poster.”  
  
Rey snorted. “What, not happy with your own husband?”  
  
Rose lifted her eyebrows. “My husband is a gorgeous slab of densely-muscled dark chocolate man and everything that is sexy and perfect to me. But that—“ and she pointed toward the kitchen “—is an apex predator.” She narrowed her eyes. “I’m just saying I get you. And I will back up at least the physical side of this relationship.”

Unable to wrap his mind around his situation fast enough to protest, Ben stared at the baby he was now holding awkwardly at arms length.  Its little feet kicked in the air while it screamed bloody murder.

"Shush.  Stop.  Shut up!"  He tried helplessly with mounting frustration.  It screamed louder.

What did normal people do with babies?  He wasn't even sure if it was male or female, much less how to make it be quiet.  Casting around desperately for help, Ben tucked it into one arm and reached for one of the large kitchen towels draped over a handle.  He had discovered by accident that wrapping Spoon up in something it couldn't escape from took the edge off of the little porg's violent tendencies, maybe it worked for babies too.

Carefully, Ben wound the towel around the flailing arms and legs, trapping them against the little body.  It was so... small.  His big hands felt clumsy and awkward, and he was fairly certain if he dropped it there would be absolutely no chance of surviving his trial.  

Stilling its movement seemed to have some effect, the cries dying down as Ben tucked it into his arms and stood there, desperately hoping that Rey would come back soon.  He wasn't supposed to walk off with it... right?  He glowered down at the pink face as a little hand worked its way free stubbornly and wrapped tiny fingers around one of his, holding it prisoner.  The next thing he knew his finger was in its little mouth and it blinked up at him sleepily.

_Oh god… Rey?  A Little help?_

Rey blinked at Rose, trying to untangle Ben’s anxiety. “I think I need to go rescue Ben from your daughter,” she said.  
  
“She’s stopped crying,” Rose said. “Actually, I’m not sure that’s a good thing.” She considered a moment. “What am I saying? That’s definitely a good thing.”  
  
Together, they leaned back into the kitchen to see Ben standing in the middle of the spread out synthesizer parts, one arm clutching the baby, who seemed to have mistaken his finger for a teething toy. “Is that a kitchen towel?” Rose asked, tilting her head.  
  
Rey was too busy trying not to laugh at the look of sheer panic on Ben’s face. She looked at Rose. “You realize what this means?”  
  
Rose raised her eyebrows.  
  
“Both of us are worse with babies than him.”  
  
A beat of silence passed before the two of them burst into laughter, and Rey clutched at her side.

Ben glowered darkly at them both.

"You're not helping."  He growled, still unsure of how to extract his hand from the tiny creature's mouth.  "I'm not good with babies.  I refuse to be."  

Its eyes slowly drifted closed, but it's grip didn't weaken.  "You said your name was Rose, right?  Could you take it back now?  Please?"

“Her name is Paige,” Rose said, but she stepped forward, extracting the bundle from his arms. “You should...eh...maybe get a shirt.”  
  
"I've heard that somewhere before."  Ben glared at Rey.

She was grinning, her eyes narrowed to sparkling hazel slits. “I’ll get her basket,” she said, ducking into the living room for the little handheld basket-thing Rose had been carrying the baby in on when she arrived.

It was strange, having someone from her other life willing to step so close to him.  It made him uncomfortable, but there was something else tugging at his senses.  Something he couldn't identify.  A thread of relief, perhaps, or something like it.  He wondered what her connection to Rose was...  how he had hurt her in the past.  

He also thought he probably didn't want to know.

Rey returned with the basket-thing and pointed Ben toward the drink synthesizer for his choice of caf or khava. There were also a variety of teas, but Rey hadn’t ever known Ben to stray toward something so light. She sat on a kitchen stool and handed Rose tools, occasionally throwing in thoughts about the circuits as Rose told more stories about the baby, and its exploits with the children on Poe’s estate. It wasn’t until she said the name that Rey felt a swell of longing.  
  
“..really likes is Sarissa. Though I think Ari’li might be a little bit unnerved. I think she said Chiss babies speak in their first month, so....weird.”

Ben couldn't help himself, breaking into their conversation.  "Ari'li?  She's here?"  His brow furrowed, surprised by his own reaction. He still remembered the betrayal in her eyes, red tears streaking her face.  He had managed to put her out of his mind, a moment from the past.  He hadn't honestly expected they would meet her again.

He looked down at the mug in his hands, the liquid swirling darkly.  He found himself hoping she wouldn't hear about them, wouldn't know about his trial.  It felt like... disappointing her somehow.

Rey could have kicked herself. “Yes, I forgot to say, Ben. I’m sorry. Poe’s estate—he was trying to find something to do with it and I suggested he take on some of the refugee children and...” she shrugged. “I guess he liked the idea. I didn’t think he’d actually do it, but according to the records, they’re all here.” She looked at Rose. “He said you two moved in as well?”  
  
Rose nodded. “So the baby’s closer to the kids. They love looking after her. Most of them are better at it than I am. Although they make me change her diapers. Except Sarissa. She’s very...nurturing.”

The wookie?"  Ben snorted.  "Nurturing like a small pet."  He went silent as Rey glared at him.  

Standing, he set aside his kava and cast a last suspicious glance at the baby in the basket.  "I should go and find that shower I was looking for."

“And that shirt,” Rose reminded him, sending him off with a wave. “Or my baby will think it needs to nurse from you.”  
  
Rey tilted her head. “His are bigger.”

Ben escaped them quickly, ears burning as they dissolved into laughter.

It was a side of Rey that he had never seen, had never expected to see.  She smiled so often, laughed so freely.  Despite his irritation and embarrassment, it was good to see.  He doubted the rest of their stay would go half so well, but at least she had gotten the chance to relax for a moment.  

And Ben was even more convinced than ever that he never, ever, wanted children.

Rey and Rose fixed the synthesizer and celebrated by asking it to make a thick stack of waffles. They took turns eating and talking, and while Rey outlined some of the events over the past several months, Rose gave her a rundown of the local drama.  
  
“...ran senators are trying to hint very heavily that Poe needs to marry someone, preferably one of those ambassadors.”  
  
Rey snorted. “The day Poe settles down and marries someone is the day we name porgs an endangered species.”  
  
They both had a good laugh at that. Rose shrugged. “I think he’d have married Finn, but I got there first.”  
  
Finally, Rose left to take the baby back for a nap, and Rey headed into the bedroom, intending to do the same. She had an appointment at the medical bay that afternoon. Hopefully, the exhaustion of blood loss would be a matter quickly solved with a transfusion.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So who do you think is a better mother, Rose or Finn?
> 
> Also, why are the porgs a secret? 
> 
> XD


	53. 15 Secret Porgs

Poe's large and silent estate had changed immensely since the last time that Rey had been on the grounds, mere weeks earlier.  The eastern wing had been torn out and was undergoing some sort of shrouded and mysterious renovation from which echoed the grinding of machinery and the constant hammering of construction.  

The gardens had taken on the feel of a place lived in, less perfectly tailored and more lovingly cultivated.  In a few places useless floral arrangements had been rooted up and new sprouts were growing instead, brilliantly fragrant.  The personal touch of caring hands was visible everywhere.  

The long sprawling lawn that rolled down to the lake shore was now--quite incongruously--home to an anchored X-wing starfighter painted in familiar black and orange.  

Having already called the  medical bay several times that afternoon to first, confirm that Rey had indeed shown up for her appointment and second, that she had been placed in a shuttle that was taking a direct path to his estate, Poe was waiting for her when the shuttle drew up near the front of the house.  He no longer looked regal and like a figure of great authority, having traded the uniform in for his usual more machine-friendly garb.  The stains on his knees, the forgotten smudge of grease across his forehead, and the work gloves that he still wore led her to believe that he had already been to visit the X-wing at least once today.

She took his offered hand, happier to do so now that she didn’t need it so much. The medical staff had done a bit of flesh-matrix construction on her wound, and a number of injections had her feeling like there was truly an appropriate amount of blood in her body now.  
  
She slid into Poe’s arms for a real hug, happy that he smelled so delightfully like himself. Grease and the tang of superheated metal had caught in his hair. She hung on a little longer than necessary, reassuring then both that, while some things had changed, they were still the same. Still friends. Still good.  
  
“So,” she said, gesturing around at the changed estate. “You’ve been busy. What’s the construction?”

"Well..."  Finally letting her out of the hug, Poe slung an arm around her shoulders and led her slowly towards the renovations.  "I really don't need all the space, even with Finn, and Rose, and all the kids, there's plenty of room.  So I thought I'd turn it into a small hangar and machine shop."  He grinned.  "I figured kids like these are never going to want to conform to the kind of schooling society expects.  They're happy learning practical things, and they're crazy smart."  His eyes were bright when he talked, hands animated.

"You should see how quickly Ari'li picked things up on the simulator.  She's a natural pilot that one."  There was pride in his voice.  "Sarrissa has a thing for plants..."  He waved his hand at the garden around them.  "And a couple of the others follow Rose everywhere.  She's looking forward to having the tools to make little mechanics out of them."

Rey grinned. “That sounds perfect for them. Are they...can I see them?” she asked.

“Of course you can."  Poe smiled at her.  "They're around somewhere, they know you're coming."  He cocked his head thoughtfully.  "Ari'li's run off somewhere though, she does that.  I'm sure she'll be back soon."

Steering her off of the path towards a side door into the house, Poe led her into a small conservatory, plate glass windows looking out into the garden.  "Sit, you still probably shouldn't be on your feet a lot."  He tucked her onto a tall wicker love seat, settling in beside her and tucking one knee up under himself to sit sideways, facing her.  Pulling off his gloves he took her hands into his, lacing her fingers with his own as his expression grew more serious. 

"How are you really holding up, Ace?"

She stared at their hands, glad for the contact, but also a bit sad, because she knew how Ben would hate it. Ben, who was even now stuck in an apartment across the massive lake, awaiting a trial that didn’t seem to have any hope.

There was a tight line of med-tape across his knuckles, and purplish bruises seeping down the tan flesh along the back of his fingers. From punching Ben, she realized. It seemed to have done more damage to Poe’s hand than it had Ben’s face.  
  
She decided not to tell him that part.  
  
She couldn’t lose Ben. What if she lost him? What if Anakin had been wrong, and the only way to have saved him was to run somewhere into wild space and disappear. Was it still too late? Was it too late to save him if they came to take him away? She would feel his life slip...  
  
“I’m terrible,” she said, and it came out on a laugh, though her eyes were burning. “I’m terrified.”

"Rey..."  Poe tugged her into his arms, tucking her against his chest and holding her, hand petting her hair softly.  He felt her tense, and his heart broke.  Something bitter and angry reared its head, a feeling that was alien and unfamiliar.  He squashed it, closing his eyes and refusing to let her go.  They had been friends long before they had been lovers.  They had fought together, trusted each other with their lives.  He had held her when she cried, she had seen him waver when the deaths of those around him became too great of a burden for him to hold alone.  

They had cried together, when Leia had died.

He had known it from the moment that she and Kylo Ren had walked down the gangplank of the Falcon.  There had been a hunching protectiveness about the tall man's shoulders, a dark intensity that had been quite focused... on him.  Poe had read it in the way Ren's eyes had narrowed when they met his own, in the soft touch of Ren's hands on her face when she had panicked.  Poe knew that in one way at least, he had lost her.

But he would not lose this.  His friend, a young woman who needed a shoulder to cry on.

Rey held her breath, sensing the shifts in Poe’s mood, and didn’t let it out again until his emotions settled, determined, and kept her hugged hard in his arms. She rested her chin on his shoulder and sighed, letting herself take some comfort in his hug.  
  
“I know it’s hard to hear,” she said, “but I’m afraid of what’s going to happen to him. There’s...” She sighed, because she knew he’d figured her out, and she was tired of dancing around it. “I did not see it coming, Poe. I really didn’t. And now I have no idea what to do, or how to be, or how to handle anything that happens next.”

Poe kept up his absent petting, leaning his cheek against her hair.  

"I don't know what to tell you, Ace."  He said quietly.  "I can't pretend that I'm okay with... any of this."  He closed his eyes, searching for words.  "And I don't understand it at all.  But I'm so sorry. I wish that there was some way to make this all... different."  His fingers tightened at her back.  

It was like seeing the past repeat itself.  Another woman that he loved, heart breaking, sadness in her eyes because of Ben Solo.  He was tired of the cycle.  He would not let Rey be destroyed as Leia had.  But that scene at their arrival...  hate and distrust weren't enough for him to deny logic.  The old Kylo Ren would have killed him before he ever had the chance to land that ill-conceived punch.  Unfortunately, he hadn’t had that thought until a moment too late to hold back.

“I wish that too,” she said, resting her forehead against his cheek. “I can’t figure out what I should say to my friends, let alone to some jury at a tribunal. It seems like everything I ever did and all the trust I gained by helping to end the First Order will be completely discredited because I-“

She didn’t want to say it, not in front of Poe. But she had to. She couldn’t shelter her friends from a truth they already knew. “Because they’ll know I love him. And that makes me look insane.”

"Have you considered that you might  _be_ insane?"  Poe asked curiously.

“Yes,” she said. “I have absolutely considered that. I think is might be at least partly true.”

At least we've covered that, then."  Poe relaxed, feeling at least a small part of their easy relationship returning.  Leaning back, he settled her more comfortably against his chest, one arm draped loosely over her.  

"I will say...  I didn't expect him to agree to come with you."

Rey relaxed, glad they had managed to get through the hardest part of the conversation. “I didn’t expect it either.” She sucked in both lips and bit them, considering her phrasing. Poe’s wrist was loose over her shoulder, his hand relaxed and fiddling absently with her sleeve.  
  
“But he wasn’t willing to leave me. And we both knew I couldn’t run forever. So he made the choice to come with me.”

The suspicious comeback was too easy, too pointed.  Of course he would want to check out their new center of government, to test their security.  Poe knew well enough to swallow it, having to admit to himself that even he didn't really think that was true.

"The tribunal will meet in two days...  you need to be there.  And not with him, but as the Jedi who helped lead the resistance."

Poe was about to continue, but stopped at the sound of soft rustling trying to sneak away down the corridor.  He held up a hand with a smile.  

"We have a spy.  Sarrissa?  Is that you?"

Rey brightened, even as the young Wookie appeared furtively from around a column.  
  
“Sarrissa!” Rey said, standing up perhaps a little too fast. The wookie girl trotted shyly forward, and when Rey put her hands on the girl’s shoulders, she gave a sweet, inquisitive growl. “Yes, I’m doing much better—sorry you were worried. I hear you and he others are settling in? Do you approve of my choice of guardian?”  
  
Another rumble.  
  
“Yes, he is nice.”  
  
A whine of question, and Rey’s heart sank a bit.  
  
“He’s here, yes. But he’s got to stay in his rooms, because he has to go to trial. Maybe after that, we’ll see.”

"Come on, you two."  Poe said with a tired smile, swinging up to his feet and waving them towards the doors.  "I'm sure Rey would love a tour of the new space, 'Rissa.  And the others would love to see her too."  

The wookie rumbled delightedly, taking Rey's hand in her large and furry one, and tugging her excitedly towards the renovations.


	54. 4 porgs (or, Spoon Gets Minions)

Ben wasn't sure how many more times he could prowl around the house before he went completely crazy. The few things from his room in the Falcon had been delivered by a guard who practically fled as soon as his work was done, and Ben had managed to kill about 10 minutes stashing them in his new quarters. Since then, he had mapped the house, memorized the view from every window, and considered starting a prison break tunnel.

He was bored, restless, and trying desperately to ignore the constant weight of foreboding that settled deep in his stomach when he heard the soft sound of the back door in the kitchen scraping open. It was a cautious sound, stealthy, not the sound of Rey returning from her afternoon of duties. 

Going still, Ben slid silently towards the kitchen door, gathering the Force up around himself in case someone had tried to take justice into their own hands. 

The small, gloves hand that extended around the corner was holding a mirror, and as it rotated, it caught him dead in the eye, reflecting back a single patch of blue-skinned fade and a blood red eye.

Ari’Li was around the corner at once, bouncing off the door frame. She leapt over the back of the couch, her tiny, sturdy boots slamming into the cushions, which vaulted her into the air and straight at his chest. “Dark Jeedai!” she squealed, latching onto him like a Mynock.

Ben had just enough time to extend his arms to catch her before she hit his chest, her little arms and legs winding around him and fastening her to him. Stunned, Ben held her, trying to process the sudden appearance of the girl and the violent invasion of his space. 

"...Ari'li?" She was different than he remembered her, heavier, and certainly cleaner. She had put on healthy weight, a child clearly getting enough to eat, her bones no longer standing out against her indigo skin. "What the hell are you doing here?" He looked down at the little mirror she had dropped in her excitement. "Were you breaking in?"

“I live here!” she said. “And there were guards on your door so I had to break in!” She thought for a moment. “I had to break out, too, but that’s not hard. The tutors never see when I’m about to leave and Poe doesn’t let them punish us for running off if we need to be alone. He says ‘I never died in the jungle. They’ll probably be fine.’”

She cocked her head at him, blood red eyes making minute little flicks here and there around his face. “Your...heat signature changed. You’re...surprised? Or angry? Because I snuck out? I won’t get in trouble. Well, maybe I will for sneaking past the guards on your door. But they should be the ones in trouble, not me. The back door is way too easy to pick. One little pin and the whole circuit resets.”

"You..." Ben shook his head, processing too many disparate pieces of her excited words at once. "You live with Poe Dameron?" His mood darkened. Did everyone know that damn man? He was like an invasive pest that Ben couldn't seem to get rid of, spreading into everything that Ben thought was safe. He was like... a porg. 

"The whole system resets, hmm?" Ben managed to slowly untangle the small arms and legs from around his body, frowning at her as he set her down and crouched in front of her to meet her eyes. "What was your plan then, kid? To break me out or to sneak in and kill me in my sleep?" He arched an eyebrow at her, remembering her parting threats.

“Yes,” she said. “He doesn’t like you much, even if he doesn’t say it. The feeling seems mutual.” She crossed her arms. “And my plan was to assess the situation and act accordingly.” She looked him up and down. “You don’t seem to be shackled to anything. I thought when they said you were arrested they meant like that Chamberlain person. I wasn’t sure if I was going to have to get Sarrissa to help me carry you. But I didn’t think Rey would let them hurt you. She’s not going to let them, right?”

"The feeling is definitely mutual." Ben grumbled. He looked her over, pausing for a moment. It was... strange, to see her again. 

The sandstorm on Artas seemed ages ago, so much had changed in the intervening months. That she had snuck away to see him, had considered trying to free him, it was confusing. He had not been good to them, had avoided and snapped at them. It was Rey who had cared, had tried her best to shelter and protect the children. He had mostly just let them down.

"She's going to do everything she can." Ben said quietly, appreciating the directness of children. It was at least one thing about them that made sense. 

"So tell me, do you enjoy being here? Does he-- do they at least treat you well? You mentioned tutors, what are you learning?"

Ari’Li grinned, waving her hand as if to clear doubt from the air. “They treat us very well. The other children are afraid it’s a trick, but I think some of them are getting over that. I don’t think Poe knows how to be bad to people. It’s like that circuit in his brain doesn’t exist—bad wiring, if you ask me. A leader should know when he has to be mean. As for the tutors...” She spread her hands and shrugged. “I learn a bit from them, but more when they let me have a data pad and study on my own. Most of the others must learn Basic, and things like reading, and caring for themselves and their space.”

She grinned. “But that isn’t what we’re *really* learning. I’m learning how to fly spaceships, and Vara is teaching us how to hit people who try to hit us first!” She frowned. “They won’t let me fire a blaster, though. Well, Vara did one time. But I stunned a maid and Poe said we couldn’t play with them until we learned a bit more about Appropriate Targeting.”  
Ben arched an eyebrow. "I'd say your targeting seems fine." He leaned back, crossing his arms. "You're too old not to be learning to fire a blaster already. What are you, six? I definitely had my first one before I was your age, and staff always seemed like perfectly reasonable moving targets." Admittedly, the one he had been given had no live fire settings, but that had always seemed like an unnecessary precaution.

Frowning, Ben considered. Standing, he motioned for her to wait a moment and headed into the room that he and Rey had claimed. Moments later, he returned with Rey's blaster. 

"I supposed they figured the only thing keeping me here anyway was good behavior, and letting Rey keep her weapons wasn't going to make much of a difference." He sat on the couch, holding it out to her. It was hard not to get lost in the sudden wave of memories that assaulted him, a different home, long ago. Roles reversed. 

Two rules, Ben. You keep it on stun, and you don't shoot me or your mother. Understood, kid?"

Ben shook the voice out of his mind, heart clenching. He wasn't ready to let those back in just yet. 

"No shooting me. Okay? And keep that hidden, or they'll probably take it away from you again." 

Ari’Li’s red eyes glittered as she reached for the blaster, taking it with careful reverence. She examined it, clicked the stun settings off and then back on experimentally. Then she grinned at Ben. “I can practice on the porgs. There are hundreds. Well, hundreds in the jungle. Poe won’t let them on the estate. He threatens to eat them.”  
Ben smirked. "Excellent choice." Without thinking, he reached out and ruffled her short hair fondly. How ridiculous, not letting them learn to shoot.

As the door to the kitchen clicked open again --less surreptitiously this time-- both Ben and Ari'li looked up guiltily as Ari'li tried quickly to stuff the blaster behind her.

Ben leaned back, hiding his smile. "Hey Rey, look who found us."

Rey’s mood had lifted, seeing the rest of the children and how they’d begun to slowly open up. Many of them were still a bit skittish, but they all looked healthier and had been quick to rush up to Rey, chattering in their various languages. They seemed to attribute their new, comfortable home entirely to her and Ben. She’d seen the fear, still lingering in their eyes, and sensed their worry.  
It clenched her heart, because she understood. Even now, she was sometimes afraid that everything good in her life could slip like sand through her fingers. It took a lot of faith, and a lot of trust, and a long time to build it. But Poe had made a good start, and Rey couldn’t think of a better guardian.

And now Ari’Li was here, her eyes luminous, a thread of mischievous guilt in her presence.

“We’d wondered where you snuck off to,” Rey said, opening her arms as the Chiss girl bounded over. Ari’Li paused, her eyes scanning Rey’s middle. “Your injury is still warm. Does it hurt?”

Rey tugged her into a hug. “No. The Alliance medical facility set up some sort of nano cell matrix building in it. It doesn’t hurt.”

It was good to see the spark back in Rey's dark eyes. She looked healthier, her skin flushed with blood again. "Those work well." Ben agreed, remembering a similar treatment on the long scar that she had given him. 

Standing, he met Rey's gaze over Ari'li's head. "She offered to help me break out." He said quietly, with a hint of a smile for the child's benefit. Tension still bled through the bond between them, threads of fear that waxed and waned the longer they were on Yavin's surface. There had been a contentment in Rey's demeanor when she had returned, spirit lighter. But that ever-present insecurity was weighing her down again. 

“Stand by on that,” Rey said, squeezing the girl’s shoulders. She noted the bulge of a blaster at the back of the girl’s waist and and shot Ben a look. “We’ll let you know if we need you to stun some guards.”

“I can be your pilot!” Ari’Li said.

Rey laughed. “I heard you were doing really well on simulations. It will be exciting when you guys finish building that speeder bike.”

"A pilot, eh?" Ben met Rey's gaze, shrugging. "It suits you."

He listened as Ari'li launched into an animated description of her new training, her hands waving in the air as Rey nodded and laughed when appropriate. Something about the whole situation felt unreal, distant. Ben wondered now if this were how Rey had felt on Aurelia. Out of time, out of place, like the real world were light years away. Trapped in this house, listening to Rey and Ari'li talk, Ben felt like neither Ben Solo nor Kylo Ren. He was someone else, waiting until the ground stabilized under him again. Certainly neither one of his personas should have stood for this passive waiting, should have allowed themselves to be judged so easily.

But he was here for her, and each time she glanced his way he remembered why it mattered to stay. It needed to end, one way or another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I am pleased to announce that the next thing I post to the Rebel Antics and Porg Tales collection will be the long-awaited story of Spoon!
> 
> I am taking votes for an appropriate title. So far the options are:
> 
> A Porg's Tale  
> Lord of the Porgs  
> The Life of Spoon  
> Spoon the Great and Powerful  
> The Littlest Porg
> 
> Cast your title votes now! (or feel free to offer other suggestions!)


	55. Lunch and Spoon Prison Break

Alone in the silence of his study, Poe paced back and forth before the tall windows that looked out over the estate gardens.  The papers in his hands had been crumpled and smoothed a hundred times, and still the words on them haunted him.  Names, dates, lists...  all the evidence the senate was planning of bringing to bear at Kylo Ren's trial.  It covered the surface of his desk, scattered pieces of reports and bitter commentary.  He had seen and heard them all before, many of them written in his own hand. When he closed his eyes he could still see innocents screaming around him, the crackling of the flames as the First Order razed the small village to the ground.  The dark voice that echoed... _kill them all_.  It was one memory of many, spanning across the years.

It should have been easy, composing the speech that he would be expected to present before the senate.  As the senate leader, the final words would be his, and he was finding he had none.  

With a frustrated growl, Poe balled up the empty paper again, flinging it against the glass where it bounced uselessly across the floor.  He scrubbed his hands through his hair, restless energy coursing through him.  He was a soldier, dammit!  Not a politician.  But Leia had claimed to see something more, had given him these reins and put her faith in him.  He couldn't let her down.

Sighing, he strode to the door and yanked it open, needing to find a way to clear his head.  Voices drifted to him down the long hallway, the familiar soft sounds of friends and family.  He was drawn to them,  Rose's embarrassed giggle, Vara's deeper laugh, the desperate sound of Finn trying to shush them both.

Poking his head into the sitting room, Poe took in the scene with a tired smile.  Rose had just managed to get the baby to sleep and was telling some sort of story that had the others wide-eyed with amusement.  The story cut off abruptly as Poe entered --something about kitchen towels-- and the giggling started up again.  

"Shush!"  Finn tried again, scowling.  "You'll wake her up again, seriously!"

"Do I even want to know?"  Poe asked quietly, glancing at little Paige Organa, nestled quietly in her mother's awkward grasp.

“Probably not,” Finn whispered.  
  
“Uh-oh,” Vara said, unfolding her legs from beneath her. “He’s doing the eyebrow thing.” She mimicked a look of extreme consternation. “You know,” she continued as Finn’s grin began to emerge. “That thing he does when someone tells him he has to do something impossible without an x-wing.”  
  
“I know the look,” Finn agreed. “I see it every time we’re about to go into a meeting.”  
  
Rose smiled, and turned her eyes to Poe, murmuring over the sleeping baby’s head. “Is it trial stuff?”  
  
Finn and Vara both winced. The three refugee children still playing a game in the corner looked up at the mention of the trial.

"You could say that."  Poe replied, leaning against the door frame and crossing his arms.  "I think I just need a break from it all.  Anyone want to run away with me?  I'm thinking we could become bounty hunters.  Or privateers.  Who's with me?"

Vara raised her hand at once. “Please! I’m bored as hell doing security!”  
  
Fin glanced at Rose, who frowned in consideration, then shrugged. “Can we bring the baby?”

"Baby bounty hunter?  Hell yes we can."  Poe nodded.  "We'll make a... strappy thing for BB to wear--is there a name for those?--and he can roll around with her."

“Wouldn’t he roll on the baby?” Vara asked, making a loop with her finger to simulate the droid’s rolling body.  
  
Rose shook her head, whispering in an excited tone. “Not if you weight it right and make sure there are ball bearings. Or use a sort of mag-level...” The baby grunted, and everyone drew in a sharp breath until she grunted again and cuddled closer to her mother’s chest.  
  
“Let’s go somewhere we don’t have to whisper,” Finn said.

With a pitying glance at Rose, who was decidedly trapped, Poe led the way as he, Finn, and Vara stealthily exited the room.  He should have insisted that he was fine, made them stay and enjoy themselves.  But if he were being completely honest with himself, he needed the presence of his friends around him to help him clear his mind.  

Not so very long ago, Rey would have been one of the first people he turned to if he needed to talk.  For obvious reasons, he could not talk to her about this.  Lost in thought, Poe was almost startled when Vara looped an arm through his, guiding him firmly out into the bright air of the gardens.

Finn fell in on Poe’s other side, and they walked in silence past the edge of the lake, across the narrow bridge to the memorial gardens. It was a strange slice out of time, those gardens, where the rugged past of Yavin IV met present-day heroism.  
  
Part of one of the old Massassi temples’ foundations, long overtaken by jungle, had been excavated by the settlers who’d moved there after the destruction of the second Death Star, Poe’s parents among them. In that garden was the very tree his mother had helped to rescue from Imperial holdovers—a strange, apparently Force-sensitive plant from pre-destruction Jedha.  
  
It seemed an appropriate place for a memorial.

Several key voices within the senate had clamored for statues.  Tall and imposing constructions that would 'honor' the great heroes of the war.  Poe had shot those voices down with quick efficiency.  He had given them one statue, a relatively tasteful marble piece that graced the entry way of the new senate hall with Leia's stately presence.  Personally, he tolerated it because he knew it would have made her laugh.

But here, under the quiet whispering of the trees, this was where the real memories were.

Side by side, Leia and Han's memorials stood, blank and beautifully carved white pillars that arched upwards, mimicking the branches around them as they twined together several meters above the ground.  The ground around them was littered with reverence, photos and ribbons, candles, notes, a child's flute.  Tokens left by unknown people to honor the dead.  

As Poe approached he pulled away from his friends slightly, reaching out a hand to rest it gently against the almost warm stone.

"I don't know if I can do this."  Poe said finally, breaking the silence that had fallen around them all.  "Dammed if I know what I'm supposed to say or think tomorrow...  I think either way I lose."

Finn’s hand found Poe’s shoulder and gripped it. He didn’t speak for a long moment, just nodded his understanding. Vara said nothing, looking down at the base of the pillars, her dark eyes scanning the tokens left behind.  
  
At last, Finn said, “I’ve been thinking what I would do in your situation. Having the last speech at the trial before the vote. And I don’t know. I know what I would do if it was just him—I know what kind of punishment I’d say he deserves. But it’s not just him. And it’s not just...Rey either.”  
  
He frowned down at the marble. “They really wanted to bring him home. What do you think they would have done?”

"More than he deserved."  Poe said bitterly.  "God, Finn..."  He closed his eyes, picturing the weathered lines of her face.  Smiling, laughing...  always something sad behind her dark eyes.  "He was her-their-fucking  _son_.  And for years, I watched that slowly kill her."  

Fingers curling into a fist, Poe took a deep breath, trying to find his balance again.  

Vara stepped in, sliding her arm around his hips. Her expression was solemn, a rarity for the girl, whose tan skin was so heavily dusted with freckles, her face seemed constantly in the midst of a party. She hadn’t known Leia well, and it was possible that the late General’s maternal wishes didn’t hold as much sway with her as they did with Poe or those who’d known Leia better.  
  
Or maybe they did. It was hard to tell. Vara’s suggested solution had been exile, but that had its own associated problems.  
  
“But the General was always fair,” Finn said. “She always gave people chances to prove themselves. As another ex-member of the First Order, I gotta say...I’m relieved she trusted what I decided I wanted to be, and not what I had been before.” He blinked. “I can’t believe I just defended him.”

Poe arched an eyebrow at him.  "Yeah, I can't believe you did either.  There's a difference you know, between you ex-First Order people.  You aren't a shit person, and an even shittier son.  And, of course, you didn't wait to try the good guy out thing until you were out of bad guy options."  He sighed, resting one hand on Finn's and winding his other arm around Vara's shoulders.   "Don't mind me, I'm just in a mood today."

“She treated you like a son too,” Finn said.  
  
Vara sighed.  “Which means Poe is the dutiful older son who stuck it out, and Ben Solo is the trash little brother who ran off to murder people and break his mother’s heart. Now he’s back and I know he’s trying and everything. I just don’t know if it’s too little too late. I mean, there’s Rey to consider, too. I don’t know what happens with her if the sentence is dire. It kind of feels like if we get rid of him, we lose her.”

Poe tried to ignore the pain of her second statement, focusing instead on the first.  "Please, no.  Scrub that mental image out of my brain."  He shuddered.  "Brother comparisons end  _now."_

But even as they laughed haltingly, Poe couldn't ignore that Vara was simply brave enough to put to words one of his greatest regrets.  Leia had, in many ways, become a mother to him.  And watching the one person that should have loved her as much as he did destroy her... it was something he could never forgive.

As their steps slowly carried them back towards the estate, Finn paused as the X-wing that Poe had parked on the lawn came into view.

"Uh...  Poe?  Is that maid... dusting your ship?"

Poe snorted.  "Eeeyup.  The staff that came with this place is really confused by my incredibly un-noble tendency to put functioning machinery into decorative places.  I think they think it's some kind of...  post war art installation or something.  Or they're just really bored."


	56. Spoon Starts a Cult

Rey had been back to the medical facility that morning for an examination, and was satisfied to hear that the microscopic biotech droids had done their job, and her “apex and LAD” were fully reconstructed, which she assumed meant her heart would be fine. After that announcement, they pumped more blood into her arteries and sent her back to the little apartment where Ben was undoubtedly still pacing like a rancor in a pit.  
  
The trial was tomorrow. This knowledge was like a looming shadow, ready to swallow up all light, and brought with it the whole night-world worth of fears and unknowns. She felt nauseated just thinking about it, and no matter how she tried to meditate, she couldn’t slip back into that white-walled place inside herself, where the Force and its vastness could be her comfort.  
  
Right now, what she wanted to do was hold onto Ben and keep him safe.

The constant suppressed anxiety that Rey was trying to hold back from him left Ben on edge, and as each hour passed he struggled harder to keep back the dark mood that threatened.  It was hard to keep his promises to her, to stay, to let things happen as they would.  Every instinct screamed at him to fight, to work free of the enemy territory that he had allowed himself to be placed in.  He tried to remain optimistic around her, to soothe the worry from Rey's dark eyes, but it was becoming harder with each passing moment.  She still had hope...  but he had few doubts as to how the following day would end. 

And in the dark of night, surrounded by ghosts of his own making, he could not fault them for it.

He felt her returning and rose to meet her.  With each day she seemed healthier again, cheeks brighter, movements easy and free of pain.  It was good to see, to know that she would be alright.

Rey wanted a distraction. At the same time, she wanted to hang onto every second, observe its passing as if she might spot the very instant she could do something—anything at all—to make a difference. Everyone had been busy today. Busy and quiet. The most common sound at her lunch with Finn and Rose had been the coos of baby Paige, and the sound of forks scraping plates without much gusto.  
  
Finn hadn’t quite been able to look at her. As a former stormtrooper, he had his own testimony to give, and she didn’t think it was going to paint the former Supreme Leader in a sympathetic light.  
  
Poe would be fair enough to include the reports of Ben’s self-assumed work cleaning up the remnants of the First Order. She knew he would. But he would also likely include the information he’d gleaned during his time being tortured as a prisoner at the hands of Kylo Ren.  
  
It would be hard to watch her friends deliver their testimonies against him. Harder still was the fact that she had to agree. Kylo Ren—Ben—had done despicable things. She should hate him. She should want him to suffer and pay for his crimes.  
  
Rey walked into the apartment, saw him standing there, tall and dark. Maybe it was just experience that made him look so warm. She didn’t hate him, even if she should. And he’d suffer the rest of his life for all the things he did, without help from the Alliance.  
  
The threat of execution hung over them both. His punishment would be up to discussion and vote, and even with Poe’s and Finn’s votes likely pushing for leniency (for her sake, if not Ben’s), there was no guarantee he’d come out alive.

Ben wound his arms around her, closing his eyes as he tilted his face down into the soft brown waves of her hair.  A tumult of emotions was tumbling through her, chaotic, unsure.  Many of them mirrored his own.  

Less than a year had passed since she had found him, broken and angry among the stars.  As he was then, walking the line between control and madness, he never would have even considered being in this position, being judged by old enemies.  But time--and Rey--had changed everything.  

He held her quietly, the two of them standing there in their fears, no words necessary between them.  Ben believed he could handle most of what he would hear tomorrow, the accusations and the brutal truths...  but there were things that still hurt too deeply to face.  Things that he knew would shake his resolve.  Thoughts of Luke still brought back the old familiar anger, the need to rage at his betrayal.  And Han...  Ben shuddered, shoving the thought aside.  There was still a box for that memory, one that he was not ready to open.

She felt the tremble go up his spine and chased it with her hands. His shirt was unbelted, and her palms slid easily under it, up his back. His skin was warm, just as she remembered. Rey pressed her face into his chest and inhaled, wishing she could drown in his scent and smudge it on her skin and keep it with her forever in case...  
  
She didn’t realize how short her breaths were becoming. Her heart slammed, telling her to run. Telling her to take Ben, not to leave him balancing on this tipping point, when she couldn’t stand what lay to either side. There didn’t seem like a scenario existed where she could keep holding onto him.

Ben could feel her indecision, the waves of panic that rippled up her body and through their link.  Pulling back slightly, he lifted his hands to cup her face, tilting it up to look at him.

"Rey...  I need to do this as much as you need me to."  He said quietly, realizing the truth of the words for the first time. 

"There was a time, not so long ago, when I thought that as long as you were so frustratingly Light, I had to be the Dark to balance that.  I embraced it, I enjoyed it.  I used you as an excuse, even while trying to bring you closer.  I can't take back what I did.  And I think..." He paused, trying to find the words for what he was wanted to say, the painful truth he had to admit.  "I think I would make the same mistakes, given the chance to do it over.  I'm not good enough to make the right choices.  I  _need_  you, to make those for me.  And if this is the only chance I have to keep you..."

Rey felt his big hands covering her jaw, thumbs moving across her cheekbones. Fear was like a chasm opening up beneath her, but she held his gaze. She held onto the truth in what he said, in what he needed to move forward, to take steps toward becoming that fully-incorporated man she’d seen in their shared vision.  
  
Absolution was necessary. He needed to face his crimes and be judged for them, or the part of his soul that knew compassion and guilt and grief would never be at ease. To forgive himself, he needed to feel as though he’d done his penance, whatever that might be.  
  
Rey curled her fingers against the small of his back. Swallowing thickly, she nodded.  
  
“I need you too,” she said. “As long as you’re here, I’m not alone.”

"I'll always be here."  He said quietly, knowing that it was true.  No matter what happened, she would always be a beacon, drawing his spirit towards her light.  He leaned down, kissing her forehead, each cheek, ending softly on her lips before he withdrew.  

"Thank you."

Rey took his hands in hers and tilted her forehead against his sternum. She let herself have a few more seconds before she straightened up and pulled him over to the small dining surface. A second chair had been brought to them, and though the suite had been outfitted with a beverage synth, someone—probably Rose or C-3PO—had insisted their meals be made and delivered by the (very bored) staff at Poe’s estate.  
  
Had Ben stayed here alone, she doubted they would have bothered. At least that was one good thing about her being here.  
  
“I’ve been told I’m good for moderate levels of activity,” she said. “No combat quite yet, but I can run and train and lift things. She ordered a cup of khav from the synth. “Khav or tea?” She asked.

He arched an eyebrow at her, surprised she even bothered asking.

"That's good to hear.  You'll need to get back into fighting shape before trying to go after Hux. He's... smarter than I like to give him credit for."  He sighed.  "He'll have had the time and warning now to make arrangements."

It was easier to focus on the mission--whether or not it was one he would be completing with her-- than to let his mind dwell on his immediate situation.  

"Even without funding and the troops we've been slowly taking from him, he's a cockroach.  He'll figure out a way to keep coming back."

Rey nodded and slid the first cup of khav over to Ben. “I need to know where to start. I need to know what the...lizard things are, and if there’s a way to counteract them.” She keyed in a second order of khav, this one with more spices. “You’ve already given Admiral Antilles a lot of information, but I’m still pretty sure there’s stuff you haven’t told him. Things that you could tell me. I don’t want to leave it to the last minute.” She took a scalding sip of khav, trying to help swallow the lump in her throat. “In case you can’t come with me.”

"Ysalimiri."  Ben nodded, absently turning the cup in his hands.  "The lizards.  I really don't know much more about them, they make small force-inhibiting bubbles in proximity, and those fields expand proportionally to the number of lizards in proximity.  As for how to deal with that..."  He shrugged.  "I guess kill his lizards?"  He smiled faintly, the gesture failing to reach his eyes.

He didn't want to think of her going on without him, though it would not be alone.  She had others, and the Alliance was growing stronger every day.  It would be more than enough to eventually put down Hux's futile attempts to regain power.   Though, he supposed, the Republic had once thought the same of the fragmented Empire.  

He had always assumed he would kill Hux himself, show the petulant man what a fool he had been.  The thought of someone else doing it for him--someone like Poe Dameron--did not sit well.

"Other things..."  He shrugged.  "I'll see what I can think of.  There's really... very little that you don't know by now."

Rey chewed her lip. “Fine,” she said. She spun the mug’s handle between her hands, unsure of how to keep talking, only that she wanted to. She was filled with a restless sort of energy that told her she had to make use of every last second. To make it all count. She didn’t know what she wanted to do—only that she needed to do something. There were a thousand things she could think of now that she would have liked to show Ben. Jakku, for one. Maybe, someday, Ach-to. She thought of the underwater restaurant Poe and Finn and Rose had taken her to, and the beautiful memorial for Leia, which lay just across the lake.  
  
But she couldn’t do any of those. Ben wasn’t allowed to leave these four walls. The only thing she could do was spend time with him here. And make it count.  
  
Silently, she stood from her chair and went around the table. She pushed herself sideways into his lap, slid her arms around his shoulders, and leaned her head on them.

Setting aside his untouched mug,  Ben wound her up in his arms, burying his face in her neck and breathing her in.  His whole life time had always felt too fast to him, like he were rushing endlessly, trying to reach something he couldn't see.  Even as a child he had always been running, chasing something.  The shape of that goal had changed over time--companionship, approval, recognition, power... fear.  But it had always been out of reach.  Now he was finally slowing down, his goal here in his arms, and time was running out.

“Can we just stay like this until it’s time for the trial?” Rey said. “I keep feeling like I need to be doing something. I need to fight someone or climb something or swing my lightsaber around. But there’s nothing to fight. It’s just...waiting. I hate it.”

Ben nodded, memorizing the feel of her in his arms, as though he had not already done so a dozen times before.  She was right, there was nothing and no one left to fight here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's getting closer....!
> 
> So how do you guys think this is going to go? Who will come down on Ben's side?
> 
> Also, 'Spoon the Great and Powerful' is now up on Rebel Antics!  
> (and it's probably the most ridiculous thing I've ever written. hahaha ~Sathya)


	57. 1753 Porgs on Yavin IV

They came in the early hours of the morning to take him, a smartly uniformed cohort of senate guards.  Though the Senate would not gather for several hours yet, it was explained that he was to be held near the Senate floor until such time arrived.  They were strangely polite in their formality, and gave him time to prepare. 

At Rey's request new clothes had been sent for him the day before, neatly tailored in dark blue and grey with tall grey boots that emphasized the length of his legs.  They were quiet as Rey helped him dress, arranging the sash carefully, hands brushing wrinkles away as though each extra moment spent together could be stretched infinitely.  Finally Ben caught her restless hands, tucking them against his chest and stilling her, forcing her to look at him.

"Rey..."  He held her gaze, dark eyes intense.  "I have to go.  It's okay."  He pushed his presence into their connection, trying to reassure her that he was still within her reach.

Rey felt out of body. She felt like every breath, every movement, and every word was happening underwater. Only Ben’s presence, pushing through their bond, made its way into clarity. Her throat constricted. His hands were hot over hers, his chest solid beneath her fingers.  
  
She tipped onto her toes and kissed his jaw instead of his mouth, uncertain she was quite willing to display their relationship so fully to the guards. Her lips were sore anyway. Many parts of her were sore, but she welcomed the feeling. They had gone to bed early and utterly wrecked the bedclothes. This morning, she’d found a pillowcase by her foot. The unspoken possibility that it might be their last night together had quickened their blood, put a desperate roughness into the rhythm of it.

“Good luck,” she whispered into his ear. “Reach out if you need me.”

Ben nodded, a sense of cold resolve slowly spreading through his body, muting his emotions.  For so long brittle anger had been his only way to process, to regain control of his mind and his actions.  This was something new, something stronger.

"I'll see you there."  His fingers drifted away from hers, reluctant to lose the last bit of warmth from her skin.  He held tightly to the memory of her hands, her body, her desperate kisses in the dark of the night.

With a curt nod to the tense guards that closed around him, he allowed them to lead him away from her, towards whatever judgement awaited.

When he left, the apartment went still around her. Rey spent a moment listening to the calls of local avians, the sound of wind through jungle trees and Massassi ruins, and her own thudding heart.  
  
Four hours. She had four hours to prepare for the trial. She’d spent parts of the night lying awake, sprawled over Ben’s slowly-breathing chest and fighting to frame her statements to the council. There wasn’t much else to do, except possibly go through the shower. The thought of choking down food made her throat seize up.  
  
She could at least make certain she had a clean tunic.  
  
Halfway back to her room, Rey stopped, suddenly uncertain. Poe and Finn had special uniforms for the senate. Was she supposed to dress up?  
  
Panic, pure and stark, spiked through her chest. It was utterly out of proportion, but she suddenly felt herself reaching for her comm.

Poe had been up before the planet's dawn, alternately pacing restlessly and standing at the tall plate windows that looked out over lake, x-wing, and towards the memorial gardens.  He still had not settled on the words he planned to say, writing speeches ahead of time was not his strength.  Oh, he always went into meetings with a general sense of his topic, but words flowed more easily un-memorized, un-structured than read from carefully scripted paper.  It had always seemed to work in his favor.  

Well, except for once, but he forbade them mentioning that embarrassing incident.

But today...  he had nothing.  No words in his mind, no ground to stand on.  Conflict and worry scattered his thoughts, which frantically raced between Rey and his darker memories from the war.  The pain of a dark mind in his own.

He glared at the dress uniform laid out across the bed, half military and half senatorial in design.  He played absently with the chain about his neck, twisting his mother's ring in his fingers as he often did when he was thinking too hard.  What was it like to love someone that much?  That completely?  As she had loved his father... as Rey apparently loved Kylo Ren.

When the comm on his wrist buzzed he was quick to answer, desperate for any distraction from the confusing muddle of his thoughts.

"Yes?"

“I don’t have to dress up, do I?” Rey said, her tone tight as she squeezed the last of the air from her malfunctioning lungs. “Please tell me I don’t have to dress up. I didn’t even think about it. I’ve been—“   
  
She let out a strangled sort of growling whine and dropped into a crouch. She plucked at the transport bag that held all her worldly possessions, none of which included anything nicer than her black pants and top from Aurelia. And those smelled distinctly of porg.  
  
She’d been thinking about everything else. If she’d thought about this one stupid detail before, she could have had something ready by now. Something simple and...Leia-ish.

"Rey, Rey...  Calm down."  Poe hated the panic in her voice, could picture her falling apart, tears streaking her face.  In the past he had been there to hold her together, to brush away the tears and help her back onto her feet again.  Now he felt so far away.

"Take a deep breath for me, okay?  Yes, the Senate is very formal.  Uniforms, robes, gowns...  but you'll be fine.  Your dress is perfect."

“I don’t have a dress, Poe! I left them all on Aurelia because I hated them!” she said. “All I have are dirty travel clothes and something that smells like porgs and engine grease. I—damn. Damn, this is going to look terrible. I’m going to be completely discredited, aren’t I?”

Poe paused, confused.  He hadn't enjoyed the need to search through their things before they were transferred, but it had been a necessary security measure.  The dress had surprised him, it was so unlike something that Rey would buy for herself.  He closed his eyes, cursing himself for being so stupid.

Of course Rey wouldn't buy it for herself.   _He_  had probably bought it for her.

"The pale dress, Ace.  I saw it in the things sent over from the Falcon."

“What pale dress?” she said, her brain heating up with the strange fury of panicked confusion. “It’s not mine—it’s not in my things!”

“I guess it was in Ben's things?"  Poe suggested, confused again.  "Most of your stuff was in the same room, I just thought..."  He trailed off, pacing again, wishing he could go to her and help to calm her down.

Rey shoved the duffel off the pile of bags, digging around until her fingers hit a strange, black box. She hadn’t noticed it, buried beneath the rest. To be fair, she hadn’t much looked.  
  
Extracting it, she found herself met with a familiar glossy logo carved into pitch black wood: INVIGIO.  
  
Her eyebrows lifted. “I...have not seen this,” she said, her heart dropping into her stomach. “I have to go...”  
  
Her head was light as a balloon, a thousand questions floating into the air.

Rey-?"  Poe glanced down at his comm as the connection cut off, leaving him alone again, and even more worried.

As the lid lifted off, delicately wrapped soft golden paper rustled against the wood. Nestled within the paper, the dress was neatly folded, tissue thin layers of pale champagne fabric that draped liked soft gossamer.  On the outermost layer a fine embroidered overlay covered the dress, delicate winding branches blossoming with pale pink flowers.  Here and there detailed bluebirds perched among the leaves.   It was simple, compared to many of the extravagant gowns that Rey had seen both on Aurelia, and on the new streets of Yavin's governmental capitol.  And yet there was an expensive elegance and beauty in its perfect details.

She put her fingers on the soft fabric. She had a vague memory of Ben’s riveted features, of turning and seeing just a flash of peach flutter before the dress dissolved into another.  
  
Before she could even wonder, a thin plastic holo sheet lit up on the underside of the box, bearing a message from the dress’s extravagant designer.

_My Lovely Jedi Muse,_

_Yes my dear, I knew from the moment you stepped into my shop.  I never forget a perfect face, and you were quite the holo-star not so long ago.  Never you fear, your secret is safe with me.  A great Artist, much like a great magician, never gives up his secrets!_

_I hope you find the dress you your liking!  Your gorgeous beau was quite smitten with it._ _As to how you came to be waltzing about the galaxy with the delectable Lord Ren.... well you absolutely must give me all the juicy details, darling!  I simply insist._

_Ever and affectionately yours,_

INVIGIO

As the message finished scrolling down the slim page, a comm unit code revealed itself along the bottom corner.

Rey was not prepared for the letter. She wasn’t prepared for the dress. She wasn’t prepared for anything, so, in a fear of self-preservation, her thoughts shuffled off, leaving her mind totally blank.   
  
In a daze, she stood and walked to the front door, then leaned out to address the guards still standing there. She wasn’t sure why, since Ben was gone, but it didn’t matter.  
  
“Could you request the RD unit from the Millennium Falcon be sent to me, please?” she asked. At the guard’s nod, she closed the door and made her way to the refresher.  
  
By the time she emerged, RD was happily trundling about, tidying and primping the fall of the pale dress, which had made it out of the box, along with a pair of peach silk slippers. The droid beeped at Rey inquisitively.  
  
“Permission granted,” Rey said. “But only for today!”  
  
RD gave a happy whirr and opened her front compartment, ejecting several spindly arms with a variety of terrifying looking tools.  
  
“And only for the dress, hair, and makeup!”  
  
With a falling tone of disappointment, several of the more frightening tools vanished back into the droid’s interior.

Rey Sighed.  "I hate politics"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, this one was painful to write. We hurt so much for these guys!
> 
> Invigio is a bit of a breath of fresh air though. xD 
> 
> Maybe he could become their Aurelian spy!


	58. 13 Secret Porgs Spy on the Senate

The circular senate hall was filled with whispers and soft conversation, tension palpable in the air.  The top tiers of the hall held no seats, but rows and rows of projectors took their place, generally filling out ranks of representatives from distant systems slowly joining the New Alliance.  Today, those holos were inactive, making the room seem even larger than it usually did.

Poe and the other heads of senate had done their best to keep the news of Kylo Ren's capture as quiet as possible, there was no need to make a public spectacle of it.  This was a war trial, and one that meant far too much to all of them to want to blast it across the galaxy.  The Supreme Leader's fate would not be decided by the masses, by the clamoring many who had only come to the Alliance when it was clear the tides were turning.  No, it was left to the core of the senate, those who had served and fought, and those who had supported them and formed the backbone of the new and as-yet fragile government.

Sitting stiffly in his own seat, Poe looked around at those gathering in the hall, twenty, thirty at most.  He felt nervous energy emanating from Finn to his left, and the empty seat beyond that continued to draw his attention.  Where was she?  He drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair, still turning over his speech in his mind.  Or the lack thereof.  He still struggled to decide what he needed his words to be.  He had never wanted less to have the weight of his position pulling at his shoulders.  Life was so much easier from the cockpit of a star fighter, where the rules were simple and the decisions left to those of better rank.

Rey walked carefully up the steps of the temporary senate hall, built into the middle stories of one of the massive Massassi temples. Behind her, C-3PO fussed about how failure to be early constituted lateness on 47 systems, and she sped up to leave his wide golden stare and perpetual harping behind. Rey was more concerned with ripping a hole in the delicate peach slippers Invigio had included, which were clearly not meant for the aged stone steps of Yavin IV’s ancient landmarks.  
  
She reached the senate-level entrance just as the bell calling the trial’s representatives to order rang. She stepped inside, at once enveloped by the cool shade of stone, and felt it settle on her shoulders like a mantle.  
  
The dress felt like armor. She’d hated the gaudy, revealing gowns she’d been required to wear on Aurelia, but this one was different—more like the fresh, airy gowns she’d seen on Ben’s grandmother in old holos. With simple curls and light application of cosmetics, Rey had still managed to look like herself. Looking in the mirror, she’d wondered what Leia would have thought.  
  
Hopefully, that Rey was ready to do the kind of political battle Leia was so accustomed to.  
  
The guard scanned her at the inner door and waved her into the Senate Leader’s box, where she found Poe and Finn in their dress uniforms.

They both stood as she joined them, Finn's face blanking as he stared at her.

"Wow."  He shook his head, clearly looking for more elegant words.  "I mean, wow."

Poe laughed tightly, stepping forward and giving her a quick hug.  "I think he's trying to say you look pretty damn good."  

As they all took their seats, Poe glanced sideways at Rey, trying to assess how well she was holding up.  When he had last spoken to her over the comm she had been a wreck, panic and misery clear in her voice.  He hated that he could not protect her from this.

A slow hush came over the gathered senate as the doors opened to the side of one of the mid-levels.  Two armed guards led the way into the small box, transparisteel walls separating it from the rest of the re-purposed room.  Behind them, standing tall and brooding came their prisoner.  Kylo Ren... Ben Solo.  He held himself as though he were in command of the room, as though the guards were escort and he were anything but a prisoner.

Rey stiffened. All of the temporary seams she’d stitched around her emotions threatened to pop as she saw him, tall and imposing, with that long scar down his face. She reached out automatically, filling her senses with him, needing to know he was alright.  
  
They hadn’t hurt him, of course, and she probably would have known if they had. Still, it was impossible to convince herself that he was as confident and cold as he looked. No. Inside, he was anything but.  
  
Her fingers dig into the arm of the chair, and she forced her breath to remain steady and slow. She had to be okay for him. She might be his one chance at a positive voice.

Ben took the seat they led him to, his gaze skimming across the blank faces of those who watched him.  They meant nothing to him, and yet they would decide everything.  Tension rippled through his body, and he refused to show them his weaknesses.  He found Rey, seated at the end of the hall with Dameron and the dark stormtrooper who had betrayed them.  Finn, they called him now.  

But it was Rey that kept his gaze.  She was wearing the dress.  She looked as he remembered, tall and graceful, the elegant gown bringing out the color in her pale cheeks.  She was beautiful.  He didn't know if he was upset that she had found it or not--it created the perfect image of the Jedi Rey, powerful and graceful.  And yet he had still hoped to give it to her himself one day.

He felt her reaching for him and he reached back, just enough to let her know that he was alright.  There was pain and panic hidden under her graceful facade, and he wished that he could pull her into his arms again.

He was distantly aware that the speaking had begun, one by one the senate standing, reciting the list of his crimes.  He already knew them all by heart, knew what they would use to judge him.  They offered their recommendations, though the voting would come after all had spoken.  He didn't have to listen to know what they were saying.  Kylo Ren was the enemy of all who sat here.

Rey forced herself to remain stone-faced at the recitation of all Ben’s crimes. There wasn’t one of them she could deny. There was no point trying to.  
  
Finn spoke, his voice carrying tight and clipped, but certain. He spoke of his time in the First Order as a stormtrooper. He spoke of that first battle, where his troop had taken Poe, and he’d watched as Kylo Ren personally murdered Lor San Tekka and ordered the deaths of the village.  
  
He was the one to bring up Han’s murder. The unstable lightsaber shooting out through Ben’s father’s back. The fight in that dark, snowy forest in Starkiller base.  
  
But he also spoke of Snoke, and his twisted influence. With a sideways glance at Rey, he said, “I don’t know if I believe in Ben Solo. I don’t know if I believe he can ever do enough to make up for his crimes. But I do know this: I was given another chance by the resistance. And Ben Solo didn’t wait until after the war was over to turn. His turning away from the First Order is what finally brought it all crashing down. And even if I don’t trust him, I trust Rey—our Jedi, who’s been overseeing Solo’s self-appointed mission to root out the remains of the First Order. Those actions mean something. Second chances mean something. Therefore, I council leniency in the form of service to the New Alliance, under the supervision of the Jedi Rey of Jakku.”  
  
A roar of talk spread across the chamber as these words were discussed and digested. Rey could hear dissent, but she thought she felt a ripple of shock—not everyone had known about Ben’s vigilante missions, or even that he’d turned in that final battle.  
  
At last, it was her turn to speak. She was shaking as she stood, drawing on the steel inside her, the firmness of her belief that Ben was redeemable.  
  
“The Force is something I never really understood,” she said. “Not even while I was studying it under Luke Skywalker. Not even when I was reading ancient Jedi texts, or lifting rocks with my mind. It...works in mysterious ways. Sometimes it seems to have a will, and others, it seems like it’s only a tool, here to be used as we see fit.”  
  
She swallowed. A point. There had been a point. What was it...?  
  
“I...met Kylo Ren shortly after the destruction of the Hosnian system. Like you, I hated him. He took things from my mind, but neither of us were prepared for me to fight back. The Force woke up in me...because of him. And I think it...changed us both. It linked us. In ways we didn’t understand until later.”

Ben watched her speak, her words the first that really penetrated into the slow spread of numbness that seemed to have taken over his body.  She shone, her voice clear despite her obvious nerves.  But maybe they only seemed obvious to those that knew her best.  

He sent a thread of support through their link, watched her shoulders set more firmly.  She was the legacy of the Jedi.  Not the broken, rule-bound order that had failed the galaxy again and again, for them he had no respect or interest.  But the legacy of the Jedi that Luke had barely known, that she had mentioned from those books of hers back in the peace of their un-named world.  Jedi that had not tried to tear everything apart so far that it had broken.  Jedi who had understood that black and white could never function alone.

He watched her, and he knew, as he had always known, that they would always be stronger together.

“He’s done horrific things. Both at the command of the former Supreme Leader Snoke and on his own initiative. Some of those things were done to me, or to people I cared about. I understand the desire never to forgive him. The Kylo Ren who existed back then was cruel, and angry, and deserves every punishment suggested this evening. Only that Kylo Ren no longer exists. He died, when he betrayed the First Order, just as Darth Vader died the moment he killed Emperor Palpatine to save Luke Skywalker.”  
  
Rey felt herself strengthening as she spoke. She felt Ben’s support, his confidence in her, in them. She felt every eye on her and for once, she was glad.  
  
“The man standing there was never just Kylo Ren. There has always been a part of him that remained Ben Solo. And it was Ben Solo who I came to know through the Force. It was Ben Solo who turned a lightsaber on Snoke, and struck him down instead of obeying the order to kill me. It was Ben Solo who turned the tide on Karrakesh, and until a week ago, spent every moment seeking out the remains of the First Order, and destroying them. There’s always been a conflict inside him. There always will be. He will never not be Kylo Ren, Just has he could never stop being Ben Solo. But I know his mind. I’ve been inside it, looked in all the dark corners, and I can tell you all that he is not evil. And if we let him atone for his mistakes, Ben Solo could be one of the greatest allies the New Alliance could ever make. Don’t throw him in prison, or execute him. We all know that punishment will never bring back what was lost, or satisfy those who scream for retribution. Instead, Give him the opportunity Anakin Skywalker never had: a chance to do some good.”  
  
She stood for a long time, wondering if more words might come, and when they didn’t, she stepped back, and sank stiffly down into her chair. She was afraid to reach out and see how her words had hit.

There was a long moment of silence after Rey was finished, and Poe watched the expressions of those nearest to them, trying to gauge the effect of her words.  There were frowns on many face, thoughtful looks on others, and as all eyes slowly turned to him, Poe stood, moving to the front of the small box.  

He rested his hands along the railing, marshaling thoughts that had been turning over in his mind, emotions that spun.  Whatever he said here as Senate Leader would carry weight, could change the course of the day.  He took a deep breath.

"Everything that has been said here today is true.  We know the atrocities that have been committed by the First Order, and by Kylo Ren.  But it is more than just a list of actions, we have each and every one of us been affected by the last few years.  We have lost loved ones, family, friends.  When the Hosnian System was destroyed, we lost billions to the pride and ambition of the First Order.  You know I served for years in the Republic Navy, and in that one moment I lost hundreds of companions and friends.  Their names and faces will stay with me forever.  My experience with Kylo Ren is personal.  I have watched him give the orders, I have felt his darkness in my mind, I have been tortured by his hands.  I carry a list of the dead with me each and every day, and I don't yet know if it is something that I can ever forgive."

Poe paused, looking towards the containment area where Ben was held, memories dark inside his mind.  "After Supreme Leader Snoke was killed, Kylo Ren had the chance to stop it all.  To end the killing.  Instead the resistance was hunted like animals, and on Craite he attempted to destroy us for once and for all. 

"Even General Organa, Kylo Ren's flesh and blood, spoke words that day that stripped hope from us all.  For years, she held out hope, as any mother should.  But on that day she herself said that there was no light left in him, that her son was gone forever."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...!
> 
> *breathes*


	59. Local Porgs Flee in Fear

Rey’s throat closed, and she forced herself to breathe. Poe’s words rippled over her, terrifying and true.

Poe straightened, setting his shoulders firmly as he continued with the words he knew had to be said.  For Leia, who could not say them herself.

"But what did the resistance fight for, if not for hope?  What did they die for, all of them, if not for hope?  Han Solo hoped that one day his son would return to him, and he gave his life holding on to that hope until the very end.  General Leia Organa may have said her son was gone, but I know her heart.  It was not in her nature to give up, to lose the hope that she championed her entire life, first against the Empire, and then against the First Order.  Her legacy is ours.  That we even stand here today with the right to make this decision is her gift to us.  Without her leadership, without her strength, and without her love, the First Order would have spread across the stars.  If she were here, do you really believe that she would council vengeance over hope?  Over redemption?  Against her own son?"

Turning to face directly towards where Ben was sitting, Poe met his eyes as he finished speaking, heart thundering in his chest.  "Because the most important thing that we cannot forget today, is that Ben Solo is her _son_.  Ask any parent in this room, mother or father, if they would gladly die to save their child's life, and without question they would say yes.  They did, and if we take that life away now, then we have failed everything that the Resistance, that Leia, that Han fought for.  The chance to bring him home.  That hope that there is still a future to change.  If we do that... we may as well have let the First Order win."

Poe slowly released his grip on the railing, taking his seat again as silence, and then a rush of conversation filled the senate hall.  He glanced at Rey, suddenly exhausted.  He might never approve... but he had done what he could.  What he knew was right.

Rey couldn’t breathe. She head the words, barely believing that they were actually being said, even as she replayed them in her mind.  
  
Poe was suggesting they give Ben a chance. It didn’t seem possible, given everything he’d endured and everything he believed, except... it did. Rey felt his resolve, felt that he believed every word of what he said. For Poe, honoring Han and Leia’s sacrifice was more important than vengeance. Lifting up the dream for a future that could be changed for the better held more value to him than exacting eye-for-an-eye the justice that it was universally agreed upon that Ben deserved.  
  
She held herself utterly still, afraid that if she moved, the words and any positive effect they might have had on the tribunal, would shatter.  
  
She met Ben’s eyes, and hope surged hot into her cheeks.  
  
“Trust your friends.”  
  
It was just as Anakin had said.

Leaning back in his chair, Poe let them have their moment, time to process and time to consider before he called them back to order and the truly exhausting part of the day began.

It was hours before they came to the place where they had discrete options on which to vote.  Execution, exile, imprisonment, or rehabilitation. Hours of argument and discussion, though Poe heard his words circulated enough to give him some hope.  For Rey, for the future of the new Alliance.  

His throat was raw from calling over them, bringing them to order again and again, mediating, organizing.  Finally silence prevailed, and Poe stood a last time, asking for the senate to cast their votes.  As each senator quietly tapped the datapad at their seat, Poe looked again at Rey's pale face.  The hours had taken a toll on her, though she had stayed firmly and vocally in favor of Ben's rehabilitation throughout the day.  She was pale, and her fingers had a white-knuckled grip on the arms of her chair as they waited for the final counts.

The numbers climbed steadily in each column on the little datapad Rey could see in Finn’s lap. As a non-senator, she hadn’t been permitted a vote, though she knew both her friends had tallied in favor of rehabilitation.  
  
At last, the numbers began to slow, and Rey watched as the bars representing Imprisonment and Exile fell away.  
  
She shuddered. The column for execution ticked up slowly, and just behind it, the column for Rehabilitation. The margin was closing. Slowly, she watched the numbers begin to shift as those still considering cast their ballots between the two clear contenders.  
  
She stared at Rehabilitation. Watched it creep up with her heart in her throat. It was so close now...

When the votes stabilized and the final counts closed, Poe was watching Rey.  It almost didn't seem to register with her, her expression stunned, numbed by the ordeal.  Her eyes slowly lifted to him and he smiled at her, leaning back in his chair as he released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

They had done it.

The select senate burst into chaos, conversations and shocked voices tumbling over each other.  Poe still wasn't sure how he felt about releasing Ben Solo on the galaxy, despite his own words he didn't completely trust that it was the wisest choice.  But he had hope.  For now, that would have to be enough.

Ben Solo was going to be rehabilitated, rather than executed. It had come to a margin of four points.  
  
Rey shut down.  
  
Poe stood, confirmed the sentence, and Ben was led from the room as the rest of the council set to the arduous task of deciding exactly what that rehabilitation would look like.  
  
There were votes for service, for a pilgrimage to planets where his influence had caused a negative impact, for a continuation of his work hunting down the First Order holdouts. Rey barely absorbed it. She didn’t speak, didn’t weigh in an opinion, didn’t even notice at first when the session adjourned. Not until Finn was standing beside her, offering her a hand up.  
  
She took it. And when she stood, she was almost surprised that her body didn’t float away. Her legs felt like nothing. Her face prickled.  
  
“Rey?” Finn said. “You don’t look so good.”

Don't listen to him, you look gorgeous."  Poe came up on her other side, bracing her elbow with one hand.  "Of course, you also look like you're about to pass out."  He gave her a concerned look as she swayed between him and Finn.

"Go on, Ace.  Go find him."  He smiled at her, eyes tired.  "He's all yours now."

She had the wherewithal to hug her friends, though she couldn’t bring herself to say anything as inadequate as “Thank you”. She just kissed them each on the cheek and wandered into the bright sunlight.  
  
A hot breeze hit her, blowing the peach dress around her ankles like a frothing wave. Suddenly, the whole jungle of Yavin IV was sprawled out before her, studded with Massassi temple tops and sparkling green and blue water. Below, hangars and new flagstones, the winding paths woven into the texture of the landscape.  
  
All of it teemed with people, with aliens, with droids and machines and beasts all going about their purposes. Life. Death. Everything.  
  
A flock of avians burst from the trees, wheeling, free.

Rey’s heart swelled and blossomed with a burst of sunlight-bright joy. Suddenly she was running full tilt down the long stone steps, passing councilors. At a wide knot, she dove to the side, skating down the massive slope of stone, and no doubt tearing up her slippers beyond retrieval. She leapt back to the stairs beneath them, disregarding the surprised shouts behind her.  
  
She ran, and ran, and ran, down flagstone paths, through jungle and over bridges.  
  
At last she saw the residence where she and Ben had been staying. The door was wide open, swinging gently.  
  
Rey skidded to a halt, just as a wookie’s enraged roar shook the trees.

When they had first brought him back to the small home that had been his prison, Ben was still too stunned to know how to react.  There had been no chance to see Rey, and as much as he wanted to go to her through the Force, he knew she was most likely still involved in whatever politics were still going on in the senate.  The broad strokes of his judgment may have been decided, but he knew there was a great deal more they had to discuss. 

The guards had stayed, probably more out of confusion than out of any order that they had been given.  Ben prowled the house restlessly, still trying to wrap his mind around the events of the morning.  He had found it difficult to meet Poe Dameron's gaze as the man had spoken, hating how much the words had cut through him.  He still couldn't bring himself to face that night on starkiller base.

Hours had passed in caged pacing before he felt the storm coming, sweeping pain and fury that approached as the guards hurried on their way.  Ben froze, the angry mind achingly familiar.  Another ghost from the past that he had tried to forget.

The door slammed open, rebounding off the wall behind as Chewie stormed inside, and Ben found himself backing quickly away.  There was furious pain in the tall Wookie's gaze, and as Ben raised his hands defensively the large furred fingers reached out and tangled in the collar of his jacket and lifted his feet easily off the floor.  The breath exploded from his lungs in a grunt as his back hit the wall hard, his heels scrabbling for purchase as Chewie held him there, growling.  

"Chewie...!"  Ben gasped, hands coming up to pull at the wookie's wrists, struggling to break free.  Answering anger rose in him but he crushed it down, refusing to use the Force.  This was a confrontation he had known better than to think he could avoid forever.

Rey broke into a run, streaking past startled guards. She skidded over the threshold just as Chewie’s enraged roars hit their highest pitch. There was a little huff in there she knew—the sound Chewie had chosen to represent Han, something close to the word for brother. He was saying it over and over; it threaded through his tirade, and Rey felt her heart breaking all over again.  
  
She’d seen him grieve. He’d kept her company and been with her through so much after Han’s death, and she knew he still cared about Ben, or he’d never have taken her to Snoke’s flagship to try and turn him back.  
  
But he also had to confront him. Ben had killed his best friend, the person to whom he owed a life-debt. The person whose name, though short, was laden with meaning. Han had been his first family after enslavement on Kashyykk. That family had expanded to include Leia and Luke, then Ben. Then Rey.  
  
“Chewie...” she said. The wookie ignored her, chuffing our more curses and demands and accusations. He slammed Ben against the wall twice more, hard enough to knock the wind out of him.  
  
Luckily, without enough force to crush his chest.   
  
There was another word peppering his tirade that didn’t quite make sense, a little chuff that Rey couldn’t pick out. Until she realized it wasn’t a word at all—it was Ben’s name.

Ben didn't have any words to offer, nothing that he could say that would make things right.  Even if he had, he doubted he could have gotten them out through lungs that burned for air.  As he hit the wall one last time he grunted with the force of the impact, edges of his vision sparking as pain lanced through his shoulders.  Then Chewie's hands were gone, the support holding him up was gone, and he dropped to the floor, legs crumpling under him at the sudden impact.  He hit his knees hard, falling to his hands and dragging in deep coughing breaths.  He could feel Rey's anxiety on the edge of his senses, but he was focused on the wookie that he was still convinced could kill him without really having to even try.

He had been unprepared for how much it would hurt to see Chewie again, a reminder of everything that he was trying hardest to avoid.  A reminder of memories that were bittersweet and darkened by the last decade.  

"I'm sorry..."  Was all he could manage, voice breaking as the soft sound that was Chewie's name for him echoed in his ears.  His fingers curled into fists against the floor where he stayed, body aching, unable to face the anger before him.  "Chewie...  I'm so, so sorry..."

For a moment, Rey was convinced Chewie would snarl that apologies would never bring Han back. He would turn, storm out, and leave behind the last living member of his erstwhile family.  
  
But Chewie crouched and made a low, mournful sound. Even to human ears, it sounded like weeping. The wookie covered his face, fingers curling into his rough fur, and moaned in indecision. At last, he reached out a long arm and snagged Ben around the shoulders.  
  
Chewie pulled Ben against him, wrapping both furry arms around him almost ferociously. He chuffed out Ben’s name, the word for family, and something that sounded like...  
  
Forgiveness.

Ben shuddered in his arms, tensing, almost fighting against the embrace.  It was too hard to hear, to accept.  Not when he couldn't yet forgive himself.

Chewie huffed his name again, and Ben relented, sinking helplessly into the wookie's soft fur.  His arms wound around Chewie's shoulders, hands fisting in the long fur as he held on, shaking.  Chewie smelled like home and family, like things forgotten and discarded.  Against the Wookie's broad chest Ben felt like a child again.  

When Chewie finally let him go, Ben wasn't sure how long they had crouched like that, with Rey shifting uncomfortably nearby at a loss for what to do.  As Ben slowly found his footing again Chewie was already leaving, hurrying away as though there were only so much either of them could take in one day before breaking.

Rey touched Chewie’s furry arm as he left and closed the door after him. Then she turned back to Ben.  
  
He was standing by the replicator, looking haggard and lost. Rey stepped forward. For a moment, she just let herself take him in. Solid. Real. Free.  
  
Hers. He was only a few steps away, but she couldn’t quite make herself go to him, afraid he might crack and splinter if she touched him right now.  
  
She held out her hand. “Ben?”

Her voice came through to him slowly and he focused on her, brows drawing together with the effort it took to bring himself back to the moment.  It should have been one of relief, of happiness. They had won the trial, and Rey was here, waiting for him with open arms.  But suddenly it barely seemed relevant..  The trial was just a technicality, words spoken by people that held no meaning when it came to the things that really mattered. 

He reached out to Rey in return, fingers brushing against hers softly.  As the touch of her skin warmed his hand he laced his fingers through hers, drawing her closer.  He looked her over, the lines of the gown she wore emphasizing every curve, bringing out the flush of color in her cheeks.

"You look beautiful."  He said quietly, not willing yet to face head on the emotions that tangled in the wake of his encounter with Chewie.

She found the barest of smiles for him. “You’re terrible at giving gifts.”

Ben answered her smile with a distant one of his own, tugging on her hand and pulling her against his chest.  "I didn't really have a chance..."  He defended himself weakly.

“Terrible,” she said into his shirt, winding her arms tight around his rib cage. It was too much to talk about. Too big. Neither of them had fully absorbed it. It would take weeks, likely, to get the full measure of what “rehabilitation” meant.  
  
She could also sense that Ben, having been pardoned by some and forgiven by others, was now realizing how much harder it would be to forgive himself. With all the blame cast like arrows in his direction, he’d focused on defense, on anger, and ignored the deeper wounds caused by his own guilt.  
  
Now was not the time for that. Now was the time to be grateful for life, and grateful for the chance to do what he could to make things right.

They spent the evening in comfortable silence, the pressure of needing to fill every moment lifted from their shoulders.  The walls that had been closing in around them ever since they had first decided to return to Yavin IV were gone, and even within the small house that had been his prison, Ben felt comfortable, free.

Most of that had to do with Rey, and the easy consistency of her presence at his side.  Her belief in him made him stronger.  Their time was filled with the soft brush of fingers, constant reminders that they had not been--and would not be-- separated.  Rey explained to him the few things that she did know for certain, coming out of the senate meeting that had lasted almost the entire day.  

The Alliance expected him to hunt down Hux and the other First Order holdouts, a job which he already planned to do with pleasure.

And Rey was required to stay at his side, to monitor him, and to serve as restraint should he go too far.  Ben doubted most in that room had known how easy of a requirement that would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chewie!!!
> 
> Ben has come such a long way... what more do you think he needs to confront to achieve his character journey? What other resolutions do they need?


	60. Chapter 60

Ben woke in the early hours of the morning, light barely tinting the eastern sky through the windows.  His dreams had been chaotic, and a restlessness burned in him.  Sliding carefully from the bed they shared, Ben dressed quietly, hoping not to wake her.  He needed to get away, at least for a short time, and clear his mind.  

With guards no longer posted and the security systems disabled, it was easy to slip away.

Rey woke already knowing that Ben wasn’t beside her. The superficial part of her mind wanted to be afraid, but something deeper inside her felt too at peace for there to truly be anything wrong.  
  
She tossed off the covers and climbed out, then smoothed them back to match the other side, already straightened by Ben when he’d risen.  
  
It was early. Cool dawn light flowed through the window, and misty cobwebs hung thick between the jungle trees, obscuring temple peaks and spindly comm towers. Rey pulled on trousers and commandeered Ben’s shirt from the day before, which had a comforting weight and smell to it.  
  
He wasn’t in the room beyond, but she’d already guessed that. Rey made two cups of khav and slipped from the little apartment, letting her sense of Ben’s presence guide her toward the lake.

It was good to breathe fresh air, to feel the early morning chill on his skin.  Ben had found a small path that circled the edge of the large lake that seemed to be the focal point of the senatorial complex, surrounded by parks and grand estates.  Perhaps it wasn't the best idea to wonder alone, where his presence could still so easily cause upset and chaos. But he had needed these quiet moments.

There was no one about, it was still too early for most to bother.  Ben remembered life on Chandrilla, where the wealthy and elite tended towards late nights, not early mornings.  

Choosing the path that led towards what appeared to be the less habited side of the water, Ben listened to the soft sounds of native life waking slowly, scurrying in the grass and the coo of birds.  Here and there the towering profile of old temples could still be seen beyond the careful manicuring of grounds, hidden in the deep jungles beyond. 

A soft whispering of the Force made him pause, then drew him onward down the stone path, towards a grove that still stood mostly wild on a promontory jutting out into the lake.  It was like the sound of the wind in the leaves, but there was no breeze in the still of morning.  

A tall and twisting tree dominated the small grove, and Ben reached out to it curiously through the Force, testing a suspicion.  It swayed faintly in his direction as he did so, branches reaching out as though in greeting. He moved to approach and froze, suddenly taking in the rest of the scene before him as his chest clenched in sudden pain. 

Rey felt the shift in his mood, and immediately knew where to find him. She balanced the hot liquid in the mugs with a touch of power and dashed down a jungle path, beneath the mist-shrouded trees.  
  
She found him at the memorial, beyond the Uneti tree Poe’s parents had planted for Luke. It was, in a way, a trifecta. The Force-sensitive tree standing in for the Jedi Master, and the twining statue symbolizing two heroes of the Rebellion and the Resistance.  
  
Ben knelt at the base of that statue, his big shoulders diminished, back curved in a slump. Rey set down the mugs, touching the Uneti tree’s bark as she passed, feeling its familiarity to the massive one on Ach-To.  
  
Help me comfort him, she thought, unsure if she was reaching out to a specific person, or simply to the Force itself. Her heart ached for Ben, and she felt the cracking agony inside him, clawing and unexpected, at least by him.  
  
Rey put her hand on his back and crouched behind him, gazing at the hand spread across the names in the memorial’s marble plaque.  
  
_Han Solo • Leia Organa_

Ben felt sick, dizzy, the letters under his fingers blurring as he felt the chill of the marble under his touch.  Something was cracking apart inside him, fracturing and tearing violently apart the years of barriers that he had crafted so carefully to protect himself.  His heart drummed in his chest and his mind scrambled to try and re-build the walls that were tumbling down faster than he could keep up with them.

He barely felt the touch of Rey's hand, everything seeming distant and far away.  Cold seeped into his skin, deeper into his bones, freezing him in place as more memory and guilt than he could bear dug icy fingers into his chest and pullled him apart.

Han, Rey realized. That was what this was about. He’d been able to speak with Leia’s spirit and make his peace, and the day might come when he could even do that with Luke.

But Han hadn’t had the Force. He wouldn’t come back as a spirit. Ben would receive no postmortem forgiveness from the father he had murdered.

Except...Rey remembered the rough yet loving words he’d spoken just before the lightsaber had gone through him, the willingness to do anything to bring his son home. She remembered the tender way he had touched Ben’s face, as though nothing, not even patricide, could destroy his love for his son.

She held onto Ben’s shoulder, willing to be the tether he needed as the storm raged through him.

There was too much to process, too many memories all wrapped up in pain and in disappointment. Han had always tried to be there, even when Leia could not be, even when the work that the galaxy required of them had taken them away. It had always been difficult between them, but Han had tried his best, tried to figure out how to communicate with the son whose powers were beyond his understanding. When Ben and Leia had fought, even the simplest of conversations always seeming to turn into arguments and accusations, Han had always been there to try and put them back together again. 

The memory that he had tried the hardest to avoid was burned into his brain, the look of hope and sadness on Hans face, the warmth of his fingers against his cheek, the weight of his body falling away, the scent of burning flesh hanging in the air. Ben was shaking uncontrollably now, something irreparable was breaking inside him, the greatest sin for which he could never receive forgiveness. His hands clenched into fists, retreating into the only way of dealing with pain that he had left at his disposal. Nails cutting circles into the flesh of his palms, he lashed out, feeling the grounding flash of pain as the skin over his knuckles split against the marble base of the memorial. Blood streaked the white stone and Ben crumpled forward, a deep sob wracking his body.

"He never should have come near me... He should have stayed away!"

Rey had no response. Tears welled in her eyes and coursed out. This was not the time for wisdom or interruption. It was time to let Ben feel, to hate himself and grieve until the wound he’d made was clean.  
  
Carefully, as though she were coaxing a wild animal to give her its paw, she slid her fingers down his arm and took his hand, lifting it from the marble plaque.  
  
His blood filled up the letters of Han’s name, twisting and glistening in the dim morning light.

Ben couldn't remember the last time that he had cried. It was a dam breaking free in him, a flood of emotion that left him gasping for breath.  Deep shudders shook through his body and he was helpless against them.  

The Force had always been so much a part of his life, and the lives of those around him.  It had always added connections, meaning, to his actions.  But now it seemed almost like a curse, a boundary that could not be crossed.   His mother's hands had guided him when Rey had almost died, Anakin had come to him on Karrakesh, to give a shape to his confusion.  But Han...  with his strong and gentle hands and lopsided smile, Han was lost to him forever.  

Rey stayed kneeling beside him and held his bloody hand. It hurt to hear him, to see him, to feel him, and be able to do so little to comfort him. All she could do was stay by his side and bear witness to his pain. His emotions were raw, his tears no less violent than his rage or determination.  
  
They stayed at the foot of that memorial as the sun rose above the jungle trees, searing away the shroud of mist on treetops and lake. A splinter of light shot between the two twining columns, netting down onto the carved names, and the gleam of Ben’s blood.

Eventually the waves of guilt faded, too emotionally exhausted to feel any longer.  He was becoming numb, the only sensations that remained were Rey's warm hands on his, the clear and simple pain in his hand.  His lungs ached, and Ben slumped sideways against her, letting the comfort of her arms surround him. 

A soft breeze blew around them, carrying with it the small sounds of the jungle, peaceful and alive.  Ben let his eyes close, trying to hold some measure of that peace close, although he knew it was just a temporary measure.

Rey wrapped him up, sending threads of warmth and comfort and love to him, tightening them around him as surely as she did her arms. She kissed his temple, his hair, and waited for him to cue her when he was ready to stand.  
  
They stayed there a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew. Emotional baggage is a bitch, y'all!
> 
> For something slightly lighter, we would like to draw attention to the lovely short fic that Sunbug has written for us!  
> It's delightful, hilarious, and Poe approved. xD  
> Check it out in the inspired works links below!


	61. Spoon Puts Down a Mutiny

It was several hours before they returned in silence to the quiet house, Ben's arm draped tiredly around Rey's shoulder, hers around his waist. They had not spoken, no words seemed sufficient, --or necessary. As they walked through the door into the kitchen Ben halted her, pulling her around to face him and leaning in, kissing her gently. Though aching bands still seemed to be clenched around his heart, Ben knew that without her silent support he would be lost.

As much as it hurt, it would have been far worse to have stayed in that darkness forever, where he felt nothing at all.

Ben's hands slid up her back and into her fine hair, tugging her head up into the kiss. 

Rey felt relief more than anything as Ben’s lips pressed against hers. He was still hurting, but he could function. He could go on. They could. I was good to know she was allowed to touch him right now.

She slid her hands around his waist, warm now from the bright, humid Yavin IV air, and pulled herself against him. She rose onto her toes and hugged his chest close to hers, opening her mouth to him, answering his tongue with hers.  
For everything that had happened, the weeks of anxiety and fear, the pain, the guilt, this was still simple and uncomplicated. It was easy to fill his arms with her, her body familiar against his own. Lately even these moments between them had been filled with a rushed desperation, a weight that was lifting. She was here, he was free, and there was time for everything else to sort itself out.

The warmth of Rey's mouth under his and the sweetness of her tongue on his reminded him just how far they had come. 

His hands released her hair, stealing slowly down her back to her waist to hold her steady against him. His mind drifted, still disconnected from anything but the moment, the curve of Rey's body against his.

For a moment he thought that Han and Leia would have loved her... then remembered that they had. More moments that he had missed.

Rey let her hands drift over him—rubbing up his shoulders, stroking his neck and his collarbone, fingers making gentle circles behind his ears as she lost herself in the rhythm and texture of the kiss. She swayed into him and slowly, giving him plenty of time to react, she dipped her hands into the back of his shirt and pulled, gathered it up along his spine.

She pulled it over his head, disengaging enough for him to shake it from his arms. Then she was right back against him, palming his skin and his scars, kissing him with all the unspoken love she could push into their bond. Love and protection, support and desire, all wound up in the deep contentment that was knowing he would never be taken from her again.

Ben wrapped himself up in the comfort of her presence, arms tightening around her waist and lifting her off the ground easily. Her toes brushed against his ankles and he deepened the kiss, tongue sweeping across hers, tasting the flavor of her mouth as Rey cast a leg around his thigh for support, locking herself in place. She sent a suggestion through the Force, a gentle push to take them back to the couch or the little bedroom—anywhere she could get his clothes off and wrap herself up in him.

Ben hoisted her higher in his arms, easily shifting her to where her arms wound around his neck and her legs wrapped about his waist. One hand splayed out along the small of her back and he broke the kiss as he carried her effortlessly towards the small room they shared. Shoving the door open with a foot, Ben moved until his shins hit the edge of the low bed then turned, settling down on it with Rey tucked neatly into his lap. His hands slid up her back, trailing kisses down the pale line of her throat.

The knot in Rey’s chest was already loosening under the influence of Ben’s mouth. He took little time applying that same influence to her neck, earning the sharp, short gasps as sensitive nerves went bright at the touch of soft lips and warm breath.

Just having him in her arms was enough. Rey wondered how long they could get away with staying in this small apartment, in this small room, taking comfort in each other’s embrace and enjoying the fact that their future together no longer had a time limit. She could explore two inches of skin for an hour, if she liked, and it wouldn’t be a waste of time. They could kiss and touch and stay in that place of constant arousal for as long as they wanted, tipping each other back and forth over the edge.

There was no need to rush, no need to think about anything but his big hands on her back, his stomach against her thighs, and the intoxicating rush of pleasure hitting her brain as he mapped her neck with his lips and tongue. She stroked down his arms and over the back of his neck.

Ben took his time, teeth scraping softly along the tendon in her neck, following soft bites with kisses as she melted against him. She was wearing the dark blue shirt he had worn the day before, and it draped loosely over her narrow shoulders, smelling of them both. Pulling aside the collar he moved lower, licking along the delicate line of her collarbone to her shoulder as his hands braced against her shoulder blades. 

Rey's body in his arms pushed back the lingering pain, made him whole again as warmth tingled out from her fingers, dancing along his nerves. 

Moving his hands between them, Ben's fingers found the sash she had used to belt the too-large shirt around her waist, and began slowly working free the knot of it.   
Rey let her head fall to the side, content with their respective endeavors. Ben was solid and warm against her, and she sensed the blunting of his pain, like bacta over a burn. He needed her right now, as much as she needed him.

Ben cast her sash aside and Rey didn’t move to strip off the shirt. She liked the feeling of his hands stealing under it, the way the fabric moved against her skin around his questing hands.  
Stroking slowly up the soft skin of her belly, Ben felt Rey's muscles flexing. His fingers stretched around her ribcage, playing slowly upwards until his hands found the curving underside of her small breasts. Her stomach was pressed against his own now, skin to skin, warming against each other as they both took their time.

Rey broke the kiss, pressing her forehead to his. She met his eyes, thumbs grazing his jawline. “I love you,” she said, wanting him to hear it, even if he couldn’t say it back. It was okay—she knew their feelings were a mirror. She didn’t need to hear the words, not like she needed to say them.

His skin felt wonderful and warm against hers, and she wanted to stay there, his hands on her, their bodies half entwined. If she could have chosen a moment to freeze in amber, it might be this one.

She kissed him again, softly, and nuzzled her nose against his, nudging him fondly in a way she’d never considered before. She caught another kiss, smiling slowly as the soft snuggling of their faces together continued.  
Her sweet affection caught him off guard, a new dynamic that was unfamiliar but not at all unpleasant. Somehow it soothed away the rough edges that still tugged at him, and he nuzzled her back, tentatively. He couldn't help a faint smile from tugging at his lips, answering the warm light that danced in her eyes. It was good to see her like this again, it had been too long.

He nipped at the corner of her mouth, eliciting a soft laugh from her that warmed his heart.

Rey buried her hands in his hair and kissed him, knocking him backwards on the bed in her enthusiasm. Suddenly, she wanted to explore his whole mouth, and she bent her attention to that goal. Her tongue stroked his, found the inside of his cheek, the line of his teeth. She focused on his upper lip for a long set of heartbeats before diving back into his mouth. She would never get enough of kissing him.

Ben wound his arms around her, letting her chase away the lingering sadness and pain. It would return, he knew, but for the moment he allowed himself to focus on only the warm armful of woman that lay across his chest, her knees folded up to either side of his hips. The taste of her mouth on his, the scent of the jungle breeze in her hair, the simple slowly growing happiness that trickled down to him through their bond. He held her close, and let his past go.

Hands chasing down her back to her hips, Ben petted her softly, fingers teasing just beneath the waistband of the soft pants she wore. The broken skin of his knuckles protested, but he ignored the small pain--it was something that could be dealt with later.

Rey sighed into his mouth, rolling her body down against him as his questing touch set a pleasing static to prickling over her skin. She ran her hands down his arms, just to feel the size and firmness of them. She’d never really lusted after men, or paid much attention to the specific parts of men as something that could be sexy. Once, she would have looked at these powerful arms and judged them solely on their ability to swing a lightsaber harder, reach farther, and outlast her own sinewy musculature. Now, all those features she had once feared inspired different feelings. His arms were a place of shelter, and safety; they were what held her tight and kept her close against him. His big shoulders and wide, muscular chest now seemed to draw her in—just the sight of them reminded her of nights curled against him, of the way they felt under her palms, and how well she rested against them.

There were other things she remembered, and as heat coiled itself slowly down past her belly, Rey let the memories inform her movements, gently pressing her hips down over his.

Letting the press of her body continue to chase away the demons in his mind, Ben slid his hands between them, working loose the drawstring of her pants. Pulling them down her hips he trailed his fingers down her thighs and back up over the curve of her hips. He was releasing the tension and pain of the morning, letting it be replaced with hope. They were together, they could have moments like these. Nothing was left to get in their way.

Winding his arms around her, Ben broke the kiss and rolled sideways, tumbling her into the soft sheets and trapping her, mouth finding the sensitive line of her throat.

Rey almost wished he didn’t know her so well. She wanted to spend longer focusing on him, doing things that made his breath sharpen and his voice sound low in his chest. Ben seemed to have similar plans for her, however, or he wouldn’t have gone straight for her throat. All thought cut out. Rey became nothing but nerves, lighting up under the heat of his mouth.

Her fingers dug into his back, hips lifting against him and encountering the carved plane of his stomach. She wanted more, but he was settled low, and she felt of his thigh between hers, his erection generous and stiff against her leg. She pitched her head back, giving him more throat to torture her with, her voice winding higher and breather into the small room.

Teeth softly scraping the delicate skin, the vibrations of Rey's voice under his mouth made Ben's blood heat and thoughts begin to scatter. He licked a path down to the hollow along her collarbone, tasting the spice of her skin as his hands moved up under the voluminous fabric of the shirt she wore and found her small breasts, cupping them softly, He liked the way she moved beneath him, how she gave herself completely over to pleasure under his hands. There was nothing forced about Rey, and every emotion she felt, she felt purely and unreservedly.

Breaking away from her for a moment, Ben sat up on his knees and pulled her shirt off over her head as she wiggled and shifted her shoulders to help with the process. He wanted to feel more of her against him, the warmth of her skin, the beating of her heart.

Rey wanted his hands all over her. She wanted his skin all over her, and in the brief respite from mindless sensation, she reached for the fastenings of his trousers. The motion overbalanced him, forcing him to brace with one long arm beside her head as she worked them open, hooked her thumbs around his waistband, and shucked trousers and underthings down his hips in one. Then it was all hands, capturing the long line of him from shoulders to waist to hips to thighs. It was all dense, thick muscle stretched over his long frame. His pale skin was warm and scattered with delicate moles, and Rey wanted to draw constellations between them, she wanted to take the heavy swell of his cock in her hands and trace the veins. She loved touching him. Every part of him.

She spread her fingers across the flat delta below his navel and slid them down, combing through dark hair, rubbing gently to either side of his heavy shaft. She allowed the sides of her palms to graze his shaft, felt the rigidity of the flesh, the incongruent softness of his skin.  
Then she looked up at him, wanting his reaction.  
He was watching her, dark eyes hooded and intense, as though she were the only creature in the world. Dark curls fell down around his ears and face, damp with sweat. His lips parted as his breath caught in his lungs, the brush of her hands sending shivers across his skin as he held himself still above her, the muscles of his abdomen clenching with the effort it took not to move against her touch. His gaze swept her face, memorizing the bright sparkle in her eyes, the flush across her high cheeks, the reddening of her lips from kissing him so hard.

Slowly he lowered himself halfway to her, arms bracing on either side of her shoulder as he held himself above her and brushed his lips again over hers. This kiss was softer, sweeter, full of the emotion that he could not yet express any other way but to allow it to vibrate through the bond between them and the brush of their skin.

Their lips pressed delicately together, meeting and coming apart in warm, unhurried movements that made Rey feel as though her heart were going to expand out of her chest. There was so much trust between them, so much relief and emotion running back through the bond. She could feel that he loved her, and that was better than anything he could say, beyond anything he could do. She wanted to soak in that feeling, and she poured her heart back through that connection. She wanted to envelop him with her soul and keep him there, safe and whole with her forever.

She reached for him, taking him gently in hands still curious to find every small detail, every motion great or small that gave him pleasure. He was holding still for her, but she wanted his thighs to tremble. She wanted to hear him whimper over her, to reach his breaking point and fall on her with the same hunger she felt glowing inside her now. She started with light fingers, drawing up the stiff rib under his shaft, trickling them up along the sides. As she reached the neck, Rey let her thumb rub up along the sensitive tuck of flesh under his head, smiling a little against his lips, even before he reacted.

Ben growled into the kiss, hips jerking against her touch. Every movement of her fingers was beautiful torture as he both wanted it to last forever and hungered for more. He nipped her lower lip, scolding her, encouraging her, as electric whispers shivered up his spine. He wanted to bury himself in her, to feel her heat and the length of her long legs wound around his hips, but he held back, letting her explore. 

It had not felt like there was time for exploration, for curiosity until now. Their first time together they had been stumbling, breathless, and since then every moment had felt rushed and desperate. So he waited, sinking into the sensation of the touches that mapped the length of him, and attacked her throat again with his lips and tongue.

The rough, low sound of his voice made frissons of pleasure ripple through her. Rey smiled slowly. She explored him root to tip, left hand straying out to his shoulders, his chest, his face. His kiss was revenge and encouragement, and she battled against the feel of it on her throat. She wanted to outlast him—to force him to give in first—purely for the joy of knowing how much he wanted her, even if she could feel it through their bond. But it was a tough thing to wait, with her body demanding more of him.

Ben shifted slowly down, pulling himself out of her reach as his mouth moved across her collar, and down over one breast. She tensed under him, and the soft surprised sound that fell from her lips pleased him as her hands and nails traced his body Tilting his head up to look at her he shifted both his knees between her legs, settling his hips comfortably between her thighs. One hand slid down her side and over the curve of her hip, stroking her thigh as he slowly moved closer to her heat with each teasing movement. 

The deepening of her nails on his back and in his hair encouraged him, and Ben moved his hand between them, finger sliding along the wet folds between her legs.  
Rey let out a whimper as his touch teased along her flesh, spreading her open as he rubbing deeper into the slick heat. His fingertip massaged near her entrance, giving her almost enough. His big hand gripped her inner thigh, preventing her from bucking down onto his finger. She couldn’t seem to settle her body, shoulders and hips moving in time to his hands. She felt her fingers digging into his hair as his mouth made a warm path down her ribs.  
Circling her entrance, with the tip of his finger, Ben rubbed his thumb over the swollen nub of her arousal. The world around them had faded away to nothing, all his senses focused on Rey. The scent of her sweat and musky desire, the heat of her under his hands and lips, the sound of her gasping cries and soft whimpering. The Force whispered through them, pleasure and emotion swirling in their bond and drawing them together. She was not Light, he was not Dark... they simply were.

Drawing back, Ben slid back up her body, covering her as his hand moved to drag his head down the length of her slit and position himself against her entrance. 

Rey’s arms were already sliding around his shoulders, legs spreading wider, heels digging in. Ben was warmth and darkness and hurt whole body craved him. Her fingers clenched on his back as he steadied himself, and as if by spoken consensus, they tipped their heads to meet each other’s and kissed.

His hips rolled forward in a slow, steady thrust that tore low, gravelly noises from them both. He halted, half-sheathed, and Rey sensed his intentions, the slight thread of mischief or pride wound up in that desire. He wanted to discover her as much as she did him. Rey bent up her knees, locking her calves around his hips, and rocked her hips up willingly. Anything. He could have anything he wanted from her.

Rey's body closed tight and hot around him, and Ben shuddered with pleasure. The Force between them created a beautiful feedback, love and desire and sensation looping between them. Rey's hands on his back were points of bright heat, her nails scraping his skin as he rocked his hips slowly down and she rose to meet him. He found an easy rhythm, stroking into her, taking the time to learn how her body rippled and curved as he moved deeper with each motion. 

Something was building around them, between them, something more than just the rising tide of pleasure that came with sex. It was more intense, a swirling, binding sense of connection. It was the bond that they had always had, settling irrevocably into its final place, promising eternity.

They took their time, pausing to touch, to kiss, of just to remind themselves they could. The pleasure rose like a slow rolling tide, intensity waxing and waning until at last it was too much to keep at bay. Rey came, feeling the orgasm break for the third or fourth time, only this was deeper, and better, and she felt Ben rocking into her with rough, hard strokes as his pleasure spiraled up to join hers.

Then at last they lay, loose limbed in each other’s arms, sweat cooling as they breathed and thought and allowed themselves to simply exist in the glow of it all, together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! Sorry for the long break there guys, we had a busy weekend trying to catch up with all the things we've been putting off for the last month to write this fic. xD
> 
> This was a much needed break from the DRAMA! Amirite?
> 
> We wanted to let you guys know that we're actually not very far from the end of the fic! The story we wanted to explore was always Ben's redemption, and how that could even be possible. 
> 
> Not that we may not come back again at some point and write a follow-up, or keep adding #rebelantics, sakurazawa and I will never be done with Star Wars. lol
> 
> But we've been working really hard on trying to get the foundation for an original work built, and we need to take some time when we're done with this one to pursue writing that. We'll be releasing it on Wattpad in serial format, and we would love it if any of you would be interested in coming over and checking it out! You all mean the world to us! It's a sci-fi in a very similar genre to Star Wars, so it's not a crazy leap. :)
> 
> Anywho, we'll try to post the next Broken Pieces chapter up sooner this time! xD


	62. Lunch and Spoon Start Packing

"Nope, I don't like that one at all.  The aerodynamics are all wrong."

Ben arched an eyebrow, leaning back against the foot of the couch in the small living room and giving Ari'li an amused look.  

In the three days since the trial, Rey had been spending much of her time catching back up with the parts of her life that she had let slip in the months that she had been with him.  That meant long hours outside the home, doing who-knew-what, while Ben tried to figure out his new place in things. 

He had been called before a small sub-committee of the senate the day after his sentencing, the requirements and regulations of his 'rehabilitation' laid out for him quite clearly.  He had agreed to all of them, though it had been hard to resist adding in the dark rumble to his voice, the narrowing of eyes that still made some of them draw back in nervous fear.  The first time he had defaulted to such, the scathing look that Dameron had shot him had reminded him to at least make an effort.

But he was still not comfortable leaving the house if not absolutely necessary, despite his restlessness he wasn't yet prepared for the silent judgment of others. And so here he was, settled in on the floor with a tiny blue child, trying to pass the time while she schooled him on the respective aerodynamics of spacecraft.

"Fuck, Ari."  He sighed, glaring at the datapad.  "You're too damn young to know all of this.  Stop shooting down my ideas."

"You shouldn't curse around me if I'm that young."  She replied smartly, voice cool.  "I might start cursing in public or something, and then I'd be the one to get in trouble, and it would all be your fucking fault."

Ben was unable to resist a snorted laugh.  

"Fine then.  If  _you_  were looking for a high speed, reliable, decently comfortable, well-armed, infiltrator space craft with all the latest mods, what would  _you_  be looking for?"

"Well not that."  She swiped aside the sleek ship that he had pulled up, fingers tapping through the database.  "You just liked that one because it looked pretty, and you're really vain."

Ben blinked at her, shaking his head.  He was out of comebacks.

A laugh sounded from the door, which had just opened. Rey strode in, looking pink-cheeked and relaxed from her afternoon exploring the excavations with Rose.  
  
“She’s got you pinpointed there,” Rey laughed, dropping her day-pack beside the small kitchen table. “Found anything worth looking at?”  
  
The question had a hint of sadness to it. The decision to leave the Falcon behind had been clear, but even having reasons didn’t make it any easier to do. Knowing it would be in the care of her friends made it easier, especially since Chewbacca would now have access to the ship he’d called home for nearly fifty years. She hadn’t yet told him, of course. She was hoping Ben could be a part of that handoff, but Chewie was still a sore subject. He’d been doing well over the past few days, and she was loathe to break the trend.  
  
“If your dark Jeedai would stop looking at the shiniest vessels on the interstellar market, we might find one,” Ari’li said. “Here. I’m writing a fetch command for the weapons and mods you want, and the astronautic requirements you definitely need.”

Ben glanced at Rey, shaking his head.  "I don't know how Dameron puts up with her nonstop." He complained.  

"Because unlike you, he's almost as smart as me."  Ari'li replied absently, fingers flying over the controls.  

"There's nothing wrong with it being an attractive ship."  Ben grumbled, climbing to his feet and moving over to give Rey a quick hug before settling into one of the comfortable lounge chairs. He knew this process was being difficult for her, when he had first broached the subject of leaving the Falcon behind she had vehemently protested.  But he had talked her around, convincing her that it was far too recognizable a ship for their purposes.  And really, the constant repair needed was getting on both their nerves.

He didn't like to admit that it was bittersweet for him as well, there were so many memories that lingered in the Falcon's halls, both old and new.  Once he had hated that, resented the ship for all it was and all it had been.  But time and Rey's presence was making it easier to remember that not all memories had to wound. Who knew, maybe someday, when there was time and the First Order was truly gone for good, they could come back and re-build her.  

Or help Ari'li do so.  The thought made him smile faintly.

"Don't forget, Ari.  Cost isn't a factor.  Ignore that budget that the senate gave us."  He smirked at Rey.  "I didn't see that it was necessary to report my Hapian holdings to them...  First Order funds and all that."

“Solos,” Rey said. “Always smuggling something.”  
  
She perched on the side of Ben’s chair and looked down at Ari’li, who was busy modifying the search. “Make sure there’s plenty of space for illicit materials. Ventilated,” she added, glancing down at Ben. “Just in case we need to capture another First Order official.”  
  
Ari’li snorted delicately, but modified her search.

"How are your preparations going?"  Ben asked Rey quietly as Ari'li worked on her parameters and scanned through her results with a happy hum.  "If you want to stay longer..."

He trailed off, not entirely comfortable with the thought of staying on the new Alliance's homeworld, but this was in many ways Rey's home now.  Her friends were here, the family she had built for herself.  He could understand that.

Rey shrugged. “It’s more...that I’m starting to realize how much else there is to do. I never really realized. You know, they’ve got scouts out in the jungles, locating the markers for these old thoroughfares between the Massassi temples? Rose says the plan is to excavate and restore them rather than building new roads overtop. Something about respect for the moon’s history or something. I don’t really understand. But it’s got everyone in the senate barking about infrastructure and archaeology and I think Poe is going to start stunning people just to get a consensus.”  
  
She slid her hand under his hair and along the back of his neck. “It’ll be a few more days before we can settle on a ship, have it transported here, and supply it. Much as I would like to stay, I think I’d like to avoid getting roped into these senate battles even more. I don’t want to end up chained to a senate podium somewhere.”

Ben snorted.  "I think you might make an even worse senator than I would.  I cannot wait to get off of this rock, I think I'm going crazy."

He leaned back into the chair, frowning.  "I need something to do...  I suppose I could work on finding a good long-term berth for the Falcon."  He paused.  "Though doubtless you already have that all arranged."

Rey sucked in both lips and pushed her fingers just beneath the collar of Ben’s shirt, rubbing down his spine as if to calm him ahead of time. There would be no better time to broach the subject of Chewie. In fact, if she failed to do it now, broaching it later could result in the sort of fight that she wouldn’t want anyone else to hear.  
  
Perhaps Ari’li’s presence would mitigate any forceful outward reactions. Though, it was the inward ones Rey was worried about.  
  
“I thought we should give it to Chewie,” she said. “It means more to him than anyone else. And I’m sure he’d be willing to let the kids practice maintenance on it.”  
  
Ari’li looked up, her red eyes glinting. “It would be better for me to practice flying on something as a copilot. Although,” she added, a sly sort of consideration in her voice, “Poe did say I could practice in his X-wing. But I’d have to sit in his lap, since I’m too short to reach the secondary booster controls with my feet.”  
  
Rey struggled to hide a smile. Young Chiss really were just as observant as the rumors insinuated. She had a feeling Ari’li would play Ben and Poe against each other as deftly as any social manipulator.

"You-"  Ben stopped himself, sucking back the instinct to react without thinking.  He glanced back and forth between them, eyes narrowing suspiciously.  The wide-eyed innocence in Ari'li's gaze was a dead giveaway, but even knowing the girl was playing him it was hard to restrain the annoyance that thinking of Poe Dameron always brought up in him.  He decided to ignore her comment with a warning glare, to which she simply responded with the sweetest of smiles.

Turning to Rey instead, Ben pursed his lips, nodding slowly.  "It makes sense, really."  He had not seen Chewie again since the day of his trial, and in part he had doubted that he would.  It was still too hard for both of them, an open wound that would take time to heal.  But he remembered moments from his childhood, riding on the wookie's tall shoulders and touching the ceiling of the Falcon's halls, trying to find hiding places in the floor panels that the wookie could not find... it had never worked.  Rey was right, the Falcon was as much a home to Chewie as it was to anyone.  More so.  

Ben closed his eyes briefly, sighing.  "He should have it.  It's what-"  He stopped, cutting off the words, the thoughts, the sharp flash of pain.  "He should have it."  He repeated instead, looking away.

Rey knew what he wanted to say, but didn’t press the words. Ben had taken it well. She could feel the toll of that thought-process tripping through him, but he was... well, not okay, but at least managing. It would be a long road to travel before he reached “okay”, or anything like it.  
  
“What about this one?” Ari’li said, holding out the datapad to Rey. She seemed to have decided Ben was not the one to ask about ship specs.  
  
Rey took the tablet, looking at the overall design of the vessel, then more specifically at the mods and systems. “I think...” There were ways to shape it up how they needed, and with another upgrade or two, it would definitely fit their needs. She smiled. “It’s fast.”

Fast is good."  Ben agreed, looking down at the datapad in Rey's hands.  He glanced at Ari'li and raised an eyebrow.  "And I see you took at least a few of my suggestions."

The blue child shrugged.  "Jeedai Rey doesn't need you whining nonstop about how ugly your ship is." 

Standing, Ben sighed and patted Ari'li absently on the head, snatching his hand back when she swiped at it with a dark glare.  Pacing towards the windows, Ben looked out over the grounds falling down to the lake, hands clasped behind his back.  The serenity of this place got under his skin, made him restless.  His gaze traced towards the grove at the far end of the lake, a strange moodiness threading up through him.  Maybe someday he would be ready to face them again.

Turning back, he found Rey watching him with a questioning worry in her eyes.

"I should be the one to talk to Chewie."  Ben said quietly, taking a deep breath. 

Rey paused. Then, after a moment, she carefully said, “we could both go.”  
  
She wanted Ben to have support, and possibly protection. But she was also worried about Chewie, and whether he might need another friendly face.

Ben wanted to say yes, to have her presence there to keep both him and the volatile wookie from tearing each other apart.  But she had fought enough of his battles for him lately, and eventually he needed to know he could fight them for himself.  Not the easy ones, where lightsaber and skill could overcome his enemy, but the hard ones.  The ones where there was no enemy at all.

"No... I think I need to do this.  He and I both need to see what it takes for us to be... anything, again.  Maybe that's words, maybe I come back short a limb or two."  He smiled lopsidedly.  

Rey lifted her eyebrows. Having witnessed Chewie rip off Unkar Plott’s arms in Maz’s cantina, her mind had an uncomfortable start on that visualization. “Let’s try to avoid that, but...you’re probably right. Meanwhile, Ari and I can test a few upgrades on the projection model, maybe see if we can find a second or third option in case we can’t mod this one to have the smuggling compartments we need.”

Don't worry, Dark Jeedai.  We'll try to keep our options pretty."  Ari'li said with a sweet smile.

"You are never going to let that go, are you?"  Ben glared at her, grabbing his jacket off of the back of the couch and heading for the door.

"Nope!"  She called after him, and Ben hid a smile as he left.  Perhaps there was at least one thing he would miss about Yavin IV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ari'li is adorable, and amazing, and acts so much older than 6! Silly Chiss genetics.
> 
> A lot of you were asking us for clarification as to what actually happened on Karrakesh. I've added up a chapter over on Rebel Antics that should answer some of those for you!
> 
> :)


	63. The Last Porgs Standing

It felt like there was more she should do. In the relatively cool hangar of the Massassi temple nearest to Poe’s estate, Rey stood with her hand in Ari’li’s, giving RD a few final orders. She and Ari’li had spent several days modifying the beauty droid’s protocols so it would clean up after the porgs the children had unsuccessfully hidden on Poe’s estate, and also clean up after the kids.

There had been a great deal of fuss made about bath times and bedtimes, and Rey had grindingly suggested to Poe that he allow the children to skip the latter only if they could disable the droid’s mod themselves.

But now the whole group of them stood in the hangar, everyone Rey had left to care about: Finn, Poe, Rose, BB-8, Chewbacca, Vara, Sarrissa, and the rest of the orphans, oinly Ari’li was missing. And, of course, Ben.

The new ship sat before them, already packed and modded and loaded down with everything they could lay their hands on that might help in the search for Hux. Lunch and Spoon had been relocated—the latter by Ben himself, who’d cursed at the violent creature the whole time—to their new home aboard.

Rey could think of no more excuses to stay, beyond the very real ache already starting in her chest. She would miss her friends.

Though his last conversation with the wookie had not ended in the bloodshed that Ben had feared, there was still an awkward tension between them.  Ben was fairly certain there always would be.  Chewie had been speechless when Ben had offered him the Falcon, and while they had managed to completely avoid the topic of Han, Chewie had asked him questions about Rey.  Ben had been almost embarrassed to answer, but the large wookie had practically picked him up, set him in a chair, and forced him to talk.  

Now, with all the preparations that they could think of finished, Ben was finding useless tasks to keep him busy in the new ship's interior, whatever it took to remove him from the situation outside.  The hangar was filled with people that Ben was certain still didn't exactly want to see him.  Tucking his heels up on the console of the cockpit, Ben leaned back in the comfortable pilot's chair, enjoying the clean lines of it.  It was a far step up from the Falcon's patched and lumpy seats, and it felt like flying in style.  

Through the transparisteel windows Ben could see Rey working outside, her friends clustered around.  He was aware of her stormtrooper friend, Finn, glancing constantly up towards the windows, as though still aware of his presence.  The boy was skittish, though he clearly tried to hide it.  

Hearing a porgish squall of indignation, Ben sighed and unfolded from the seat, moving into the ship's interior to see what Spoon was so angry about now.  The little porg had been aggressively exploring the ship, complaining about everything.

Ben walked in to see the porg screeching at the access hatch to the hidden smuggling compartment, a voice shushing the creature from within. The hatch opened, and a small blue arm shot out, seizing the little porg. A moment later, there was a muffling of screeches, and a small, girlish yelp of, “Ow! Stupid porg!” Then, after a moment. “I’ll fucking eat you.”

Ben smirked, sneaking up to the panel and crouching down beside it.  Reaching out, he knocked on the panel politely.  "Anyone home?"

There was a beat of silence, followed by a muffled squaw for help, and a frustrated sigh. “Sure,” Ari’li said. “Come on in. We’re open.”

Pushing up the panel, Ben poked his head inside and looked around.  Ari'li had created quite a little nest for herself, a pack wedged under a set of pipes and a small blanket clutched in her arms.  The blanket was squirming and screaming in mufled porgish rage.

"What are you selling?"  Ben asked, amused.  

“Roasted porg,” Ari’li replied. “Well. You have to roast it. I can kill it for you, though.” After a moment, she looked up at him, eyes narrowed a bit, chin defiant. “You have to let me come with you.”

He knew the question was coming, but it was still hard to hear.  God, where was Rey when he needed her?  Sliding down the wall to sit along it, Ben sighed and met her defiant red eyes.  

"You know we can't."  He said frankly.  she could handle the truth, it was harder when adults dissembled and apologized.  "Not this time."

Ari’li didn’t ask why. She frowned, seeming to search for some war to argue. “I can’t fly the ship yet,” she said. “But I can help keep it maintained. And maybe Rey could teach me how to fly it. I’ve been in danger many times before.” She scrunched up her nose. “I didn’t think being safe would be so...hard.”

Ben snorted.  "Tell me about it.  Being safe is shit, and boring as hell."  Reaching into the compartment, Ben ruffled her short hair.  "Don't worry, Kid.  We won't make you stay safe forever.  Promise."  

Snagging the edge of the blanket, Ben tugged it out of her arms, spilling Spoon onto the floor where the tiny porg screamed up at him.  The battered spoon from the Falcon's dining set clattered across the floor as well, and was quickly snatched up.  With a venomous swipe at Ben's hip, Spoon scampered off in a huff. 

"We...  care about you...'  Ben managed awkwardly, the words surprisingly difficult.  "You could be used against us.  And Hux, well, that's exactly what he'd try to do."

She’d been looking at his knee, but at those words she glanced up. There was a strange mix of vulnerability and understanding on her face. “But you won’t leave me behind forever? I’ll be deadly. I’ll learn to be. I’ll learn to protect myself so you don’t have to worry, and I’ll learn to be a pilot so I can fly...”  
  
She looked around. “Did you choose a name for her?”

"The Orphan." Ben said with a smile. "And I have no doubt you'll make a great addition to our team in the future."

Sighing, he held his arms out to her as she pulled her pack over her shoulder and climbed reluctantly into them.  

"And don't you ever tell Dameron I said this, but there's probably no one better to teach you how to fly."  Ben grumbled, standing and tucking the small armful of child onto his hip.  "And someday we'll have the best pilot in the galaxy flying us around."

****

Rey broke off speaking, a smile broadening on her face. She nodded toward the Orphan’s open hatch and Ben’s tall frame, which dwarfed the tiny chiss girl in his arms.  
  
“See,” she said, voice rich with humor. “I told you we’d find her if she was aboard.”

Walking down to join them, Ben walked up to Poe, the two meeting eyes with a careful tension.  

"Dameron."  Ben acknowledged stiffly, looking down at the shorter man.

"Solo."  Poe couldn't help straightening his shoulders, refusing to be intimidated.

"This is yours."  Ben said with faint amusement, depositing Ari'li into Poe's waiting arms.  "Try to keep better track of it, will you?"

Sighing, Poe shook his head at Ari'li.  "We were looking for you, scoundrel."  Adjusting his grip on her he paused as something hard pressed between his arms and her back.  Setting her down he snatched the blaster out of her waistband, pinning her with a glare.   "What the hell is this?  Where did you get it?"  He paused, glancing up at Ben with dark eyes.

“So, where are you guys headed to first!?” Rose practically shouted the question at Ben, hoping to dissuade the two men from a competition of paternal ideology.   
  
Rey plucked at Ben’s shirt, encouraging him to answer.

Still engaged in a decidedly tense stare-off with Poe, Ben's answer was somewhat distracted.

"We have several more leads from the Aurelian chamberlain to track down, follow the money and it will lead to Hux eventually.  We may have also made a… contact… on Aurelia that can give us more intel."

Ari'li was glaring back and forth between the two of them, gaging her chances of stealing back her blaster in the event of an altercation. 

Rey reached out to give Ari’li a last hug. “Be good. If you can’t be good, be smart. And listen to Poe. He’s probably just as bored here as you are.” The girl’s eyes tracked briefly over Poe’s shoulder, then back. There was a curious little smile on her lips.  
  
From the corner of her eye, Rey noticed Vara lifting the blaster from Poe’s jacket and making a shushing motion at Ari’li. Maybe not so boring after all, for the next little while.  
  
More hugs were exchanged with Chewie, Vara, and the two-headed creature that was Finn and a swaddled Paige. “Take care of yourself,” Finn said in her ear, his voice low and a little rough. “I miss you all the time now.”  
  
She smiled and hugged him harder. “Me too,” she said. “I’ll keep on the comms with you. Just...try to compose more than one thought per send.”  
  
He laughed and she pulled away to hug Rose.

As Rey slowly worked her way through her friends, Ben watched restlessly.  He was itching to get back into space, away from all the discomfort of this planet and the memories it now held. Moving closer up beside him, Poe looked up at him with narrowed eyes.

"You take good care of her, Solo."  He said quietly.  

Ben nodded, still not sure how to handle the thread of tension between them.  It would take a long time before there was any level of comfort between them, he was sure of that.  Too much bad blood, too much history.  But maybe someday they could at least build on the uneasy truce they had started.

"Likewise."  Ben replied, glancing towards where Ari'li was now with Serrissa, chasing around Rey's legs as she exchanged words with Rose.

At last, there was no excuse to linger. No one left to say goodbye to. Not unless they wanted to start the whole process over again. Rey firmed up her jaw, swallowing through the tightness in her throat. She shrugged her shoulders, as if displacing the mantle of longing already settling there.  
  
“Okay,” she said. “We’re off then. You guys keep the galaxy running. We’ll work on keeping it safe.”  
  
They all stood for a beat, shifting and smiling and debating final hugs and words.  
  
“Who’s going to say it?” Finn said. “Am I going to say it? It feels like I should say it.”  
  
Rose rolled her eyes. “It takes away the importance of you say you’re going to say it.”

Shaking his head, Ben simply turned away and strode up the Orphan's long ramp.  This was Rey's moment, her resolution with her friends.  And the rote farewell had always struck him as empty.  He had heard it too many time from those who only meant it if you were using the part of the Force that they approved of.

Maybe things would be different the next time they were onworld.  Maybe he would have had the time to heal, to grow.  Maybe the distance of time would have helped their scars to fade as well.

Heading into the cockpit, Ben flicked his fingers over the ships start-up sequence, waiting for Rey.

Rey sensed him go, saw the uncertainty and concern in her friends’ eyes. She mustered a smile. Ben had his reasons, and she trusted that someday he’d be able to hear the words.  
  
“May the Force be with you,” she said, sweeping her gaze over the friends she had assembled. Broken pieces, all coming together to make a single picture—a picture of the one thing she’d longed for her whole life. And now, the final piece was waiting for her inside.  
  
She strode up the gangplank and turned, casting a final wave to the family she left below before closing the hatch and joining Ben. She slid into the pilot’s seat beside him, let her hand brush his as she completed the startup sequence and fired up the thrusters.  
  
He had his own picture, still full of cracks and missing shards. Together, they would mend what they could, and shore up the rest. Like a scar or soldered joint, what was broken would be stronger than before. Rey believed that.

The Orphan purred under them, slowly lifting from her berth and turning her nose up towards the sky and the stars beyond.

Ben's restlessness was fading, being replaced by a strange and unfamiliar calm.  An unfurling excitement and relief was lifting in his chest and he rested his elbow on the arm of the co-pilot's chair, reaching out and lightly lacing the ends of his fingers through Rey's.  They were free, and there was a new hunt and a new adventure waiting for them across the dark of space.

From somewhere behind them, an indignant porgish squeak echoed through the ship's halls.  Ben shook his head and smiled.  Between Rey and their strange feathered companions, perhaps it wouldn't take so long at all to make the Orphan begin to feel like home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG, THis is it! The end of Broken Pieces!
> 
> This story has come so much further than we ever expected that it would, and we have loved every second of it, and of you guys! We may come back and write more Star Wars stories in the future, who knows, I wouldn't rule it out. :)
> 
> Please keep commenting and interacting, we love you guys, and we would love to take you with us on our next adventure if you are interested!
> 
> We have started the publication of our new Original Work on Wattpad at the address below. It is in a similar genre vein to science fiction such as Star Wars, Ender's Game, and classic sci-fi like Anne McCaffrey. We hope to see you there!
> 
> https://www.wattpad.com/user/LAHarrickson
> 
> PS: I don't know where you are all, but we will be attending Supercon in Raleigh, North Carolina on July 27-29th. We're Rey and Ben cosplaying, and if anyone is in the area, we'd love to meet you!!
> 
> Much love, and may the Force be with you!
> 
> ~Sathya and Sakurazawa
> 
> P.P.S. The lovely Sunbug1138 is picking up our banner and writing a sequel! Check it out below, Postcards From the Galactic Edge!

**Author's Note:**

> Co-written with my bae, Sathya. This is a character study of Rey and Ben’s relationship, as it we think it could go after the trilogy ends (provided he gets redeemed without dying, come on Disney). The first several chapters will be suitable for teen and up, but there will be mature-to-explicit content later on.
> 
> After watching THE LAST JEDI, we talked about how there was a beauty in Ben’s brokenness, which led us to think about Kintsugi, the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery with gold. I’m sure there’s an elegant metaphor there about the light side and corruption, but let’s be real—we really just want the angsty redemption journey. And more shirtless Adam Driver.
> 
> Be warned—there be mature situations in this here space station.
> 
> If you're interested in more scenes and snippets from the Broken Pieces-verse, please check out our companion collection, Rebel Antics and Porg Tales!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Rebel Antics and Porg Tales](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13461717) by [sakurazawa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakurazawa/pseuds/sakurazawa), [Sathya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sathya/pseuds/Sathya)
  * [After Dinner... Truffles?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13551648) by [sunbug1138](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunbug1138/pseuds/sunbug1138)
  * [Postcards from the Galactic Edge](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13706421) by [sunbug1138](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunbug1138/pseuds/sunbug1138)




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